


All the way to the FBI

by paigethelaw



Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Ambition, Child Death, Consensual Infidelity, Crime Scenes, Detectives, Dialogue Heavy, Discrimination, Dyslexia, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Intense, Interviews, Major Original Character(s), Multi, Murder, Mystery, Original Character(s), Period-Typical Sexism, Psychology, Serial Killers, behavioral science unit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:49:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24670339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paigethelaw/pseuds/paigethelaw
Summary: Millie Lynn Turner is the only woman on the police force in Valdez, Texas. Fascinated with criminal psychology, she wants to prove that she's worth more than being a glorified secretary. So when two agents from the BSU come to town after bodies start showing up in Valdez, she jumps at the chance to join the task force, despite the wishes of her boyfriend Jack.
Relationships: Bill Tench/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there!
> 
> My name is Paige. I'm a dog walker, podcaster, writer, editor... lots of millennial type things. :) I recently binged MindHunter again, and loved it so much that I bought the book and have been devouring that. So, as one is wont to do, I wanted to try my own hand at a MindHunter type story. 
> 
> Check out my podcast: Near Death Dolls! We cover true crime, conspiracies, and the paranormal. Anything spooky! (;;;*_*)  
> https://linktr.ee/neardeathdollspodcast
> 
> If you've read this story before, just a note: Rita is now named Millie. For details see Chapter 10. 
> 
> Thank you very much! Enjoy!

Chapter One

“Used to be if you found a man with 40 stab wounds to the back, you don’t have to look too far to find out who did it,” Agent Tench said. He was personable, easy to relate to. I stared at him like he was solving a murder right there on the yellowed linoleum. “Wife, neighbor, cousin. He owed the wrong guy money. It was easy.”

Agent Tench leaned against a table, perching on the edge. As he spoke he rolled his shirt sleeves up to his forearm. It was pretty warm in here. The windows were all open with a few fans but it did nothing to battle a hot day in Valdez. It was the middle of May and the days were already starting to boil in anticipation of summer. There were flies buzzing around, doing lazy loops in the air. Every once in a while one of the many cops in the room would wave a fly away from themselves. 

And there were a lot of cops, many of whom I didn’t know. They’d been brought in from other jurisdictions to take this week long course from the FBI Behavioral Science Unit. This was the last day. 

“Yeah, the good old days,” Dale said from the corner. He was on the Valdez force with me and four other officers. I rolled my eyes and wished Dale could shut the fuck up for once, and let the FBI agents talk. 

“Preach it, brother,” Agent Tench said with a smirk. 

I smelled a lemon filled donut and heard crinkling paper over my shoulder. That was where Chief Kelly sat. He wasn’t paying attention either. Why was I the only one who wanted to learn from the FBI?

“But now you got a guy with a .44, terrorizing New York, taking the whole city hostage, and all at the orders of his neighbor's dog,” Tench said, throwing his thumb up as if gesturing to an apartment behind him. “It’s a whole new breed of criminal.”

“But it doesn’t have to catch you off guard,” Agent Ford said. His voice was light and calming. Even though he couldn’t relate to the boys club cops in the room, they were all listening when he talked. He had his own brand of charisma. “If you can find the what+why, you’ll find the who. It might not be a traditional motive but in the case of stranger murders, patterns start to emerge.”

“You begin to see a plan,” Tench added, “A choice that the killer is making. If you recognize the type of person being killed, you can start to get ahead of the game.”

“Blond hair, big tits, big ass,” Dale hollered, to much laughter. 

“Sometimes,” Tench replied, with a shrug and grin. I shook my head, frowning, as if this alone was enough to shame the lot of them. 

“That is an example of how to start a profile,” Ford said. 

“Yeah, but didn’t they say the Bulldogger only shot brunettes? That wasn’t true. He barely noticed who he was shooting towards the end, and because of the announcement about brunettes, a blond woman felt safe to go out, and got killed.” Jack said. I recognized his dissenting tones. 

Jack, my boyfriend, hadn’t studied the Bulldogger. He didn’t care about big city high-profile stranger murderers. What he had done was scanned a bunch of old newspapers around the station in preparation to prove the FBI agents wrong. He hated them showing up, pretending to know more than us, just because we were in a small town. 

I had sat far away from him on purpose. 

“That’s true, the Bulldogger was profiled incorrectly,” Ford said, running with the interruption like he’d planned it. “The police force was desperate to make an arrest, and the newspapers were eager to sell papers. What do you think the police should have done in that situation?” 

“They shouldn’t have allowed the letters to be published,” Jack said. “Or they should have had the papers write an article about the letters without divulging their contents. It might have made him more desperate earlier on, and showed him they aren’t playing games.”

“Yes, that’s one way to look at it,” Ford said, hesitantly.

“It’s true, he has more opportunity to make a mistake and get caught if he’s desperate,” Agent Tench said. “But it also could lead to more violent deaths. I’m with you, I don’t like the idea of giving into the demands of a little prick like the Bulldogger. But the possibility of saving lives by publishing a letter was a risk they thought worth taking.”

“I think they should have laid out bait cars,” I said. “Get male and female officers to park around Manhattan, with bullet proof vests. If they had the manpower, they could post surveillance on the bait cars to get a license plate, a description of the killer, and to call for an ambulance if things go wrong.”

The room was stony silent, as I knew it would be when I opened my mouth. The general consensus of the Valdez Police Department, and apparently our neighboring jurisdictions, was that a woman should be making sandwiches, typing, and looking pretty, not offering serious opinions, nor join the police force. 

“Proactive stakeouts,” Agent Ford said. He was looking at me and through me, his blue eyes shining with his passion. “That way you could post them at different likely streets that the Bulldogger would use to hunt, and you could switch the locations throughout the night if need be. You could even ask for volunteers to save on resources, and create a deeper sense of community. It would boost public opinion of the police force, and would likely catch the killer within a few days, a week at most with how often he hunted. That’s quite efficient. What’s your name, officer?”

I opened my mouth and heard another voice answering. 

“Uh, this is Officer Turner. She’s a new recruit,” Chief Kelly announced. I felt his hand hovering over my shoulder blade as if he was afraid to admit he had anything to do with me.

“She’s a real eager beaver,” Dale spat out. There were only a few nervous chuckles about this. Sometimes Dale forgot that Jack didn’t appreciate any references to my private parts. I figured Jack would have a talk with him later. Sure, I didn’t need his protection, but at least it kept the sexist jokes to a minimum. 

“You’re the only female officer?” Agent Tench asked me. 

“Yes,” I said. I wished I had been able to introduce myself.

“That’s right,” Chief Kelly said. “The first female officer ever to be appointed in the city of Valdez.”

He sounded sarcastic and bewildered by the concept. However, I beamed with pride to be introduced thusly to high ranking, brilliant FBI agents, doing my dream job. It sounded more impressive than “eager beaver.”

“Congratulations,” Agent Tench said, with a smile and nod at me. 

“Thank you,” I said, still beaming so hard that I felt like rays of sunlight were shooting out of my eyes. 

In my peripheral vision, I caught the look on Jack’s face. He stared at me from beneath his brows, solemn and threatening. It was gone in a flash as he glanced away again, pasting a grin on his mouth to appear normal. Jack was the reason I’d kept quiet and took notes in the back of the room the whole week. But it was the last day, and I was too enthralled with the class to stay quiet anymore, even if it got me in trouble with my boyfriend. I was sure as shit that Jack was gonna talk to me later, and he’d be madder than a jar of shook up hornets.

Oh well, I thought. If it gets me to Quantico, I’d step all over Jack’s ego. Gladly, too.

“This is what we teach,” Agent Ford said. He pointed a clicker at the projection screen behind him and it flashed up a white screen with black letters across it. It said what, why, and who. “With stranger murders, we’ve found that the killer could be very adept in covering their tracks. It could be anyone you see on the street, or it could be someone that travels from town to town, leaving bodies in their wake.”

I raised my hand, caught up in the moment. I felt like I had to interact.

“Yes, Officer Turner?” Agent Ford said. A few of the boys in the room gave each other long suffering looks and readjusted in their seats. They didn’t like how chatty I had suddenly become. 

“I had a question about them covering their tracks. Is it true that most criminals learn how to avoid getting caught from watching cop shows on TV?”

“Yes, we’ve found that it’s common amongst those we've interviewed to avidly watch cop shows, and hangout at cop bars, hoping to pick up tips on how to avoid capture.”

“So that also lends credence to the theory that certain types of criminal predators want to be policemen in order to get respect and authority,” I said. My heart fluttered excitedly to be having this conversation with people who really knew their shit. 

“Yes, absolutely,” Agent Tench said. He smiled at me, surprised at what I had said. 

“That’s exactly what we’ve found,” Agent Ford said, diving right in. “They usually go to the police academy and take the exams, but they don’t usually pass the psychological screening. And when they get rejected from the force, they seek similar occupations with lesser authority, like security guards or store managers.” 

I started taking notes on what he was saying, ecstatic to be learning this kind of insight into the criminal mind. I noted also that the only other person taking notes was Aaron, one of the cops on the Valdez force. He was young, quiet, and nervous most of the time. 

“That’s fascinating,” I said, almost without knowing that I said it outloud. 

“We’ve only just scratched the surface of the potential for solving crimes. Later today we’ll be interviewing Jimmy Dresden to gain insight into what motivated his crimes. We hope to be able to apply what we learn from him to future criminals, and hopefully catch them faster.”

“You’re meeting with Jimmy Dresden?” I said, with stars in my eyes. Jimmy had committed his crime in one city over, Gifford, Texas, where I grew up. Jimmy was what got me interested in being a cop in the first place.

“What, the guy who bum fucked two kids?” Jack said, loudly. He scoffed with a grin, trying to shame us for being interested in Jimmy. 

“Yeah, he’s a real piece of work,” Agent Tench said, commiserating. I had thought better than to say something against Jack, since he was already going to be mad at me. Yet, when Agent Tench agreed with him, without throwing his partner under the bus, the disappointment on Jack’s face was palpable. He had wanted someone to get defensive and rise to the bait. 

“And actually he also cut off the hands and feet when dismembering the bodies,” Agent Ford corrected. “As far as we know, it was his first and only murders. We want to ask him about this to see if he had a plan, and what that plan was. He started out as the town grocer. Everyone knew him and loved him. What happened to change that?”

“So if you can figure out what the catalyst was, you can try to predict it in future crimes?” I said. 

“That would be the goal, of course, but we can’t try a person for a crime he hasn’t committed yet,” Agent Ford said. “Instead, we’re concentrating on lowering the number of victims a murderer claims if we can catch them sooner. They all have patterns, and those are shared psychologically based on their upbringing, genetics, previous injuries, abuse. Whatever they’re going through, their behavior can be linked in some way to previous killers. With a diagram, or a map if you will, of the criminal personalities to know where the next step is and put a stop to it.”

“For instance,” Agent Tench added, “we just used what we learned from the Bulldogger about his sexual deviations to catch a child predator down in Georgia, using evidence from the crime scene to trigger him into a confession. You see, these killers hold a very strong emotional response to the memory of their kills. The Bulldogger said he straight up came in his pants when he shot a woman. And he would return to the scene of the crime to relive it and masturbate.”

I wrote furious notes about murders returning to the scene of the crime. But not out of guilt, like we would want to assume, but out of celebration. 

“Fascinating,” I said, to myself but out loud again. 

“You sound like you’re sympathizing with killers,” Jack said, disapprovingly. There were some shifting of butts in seats from those who didn’t want to disagree with Jack. 

“Did you really catch that killer in Georgia?” Frank said from the far side of the room. He was from the Gifford Police Department. “The one who killed a majorette?” 

“Yes, we made a profile of who the killer could potentially be, and based on that they found the suspect and brought him in,” Ford said. “And then we interviewed him, like Bill said, with the murder weapon in the room. He was so shocked at seeing it, that he started crying.”

“Crying? What the fuck?” Dale said to much laughter.

“Like a baby,” Tench added, garnering more favor with the boy’s club. 

“We hope to continue to improve our interviewing technique, using what we learn along the way. Please don’t hesitate to contact us if you should come across any cases that might fit the multiple murderer scenario. We are happy to come in and assist as much or as little as you want us to.”

I suddenly wondered what it would be like if there were a murder in Valdez, with me assigned to the case and Agents Tench and Ford consulting. Oh my god, it sounded like a dream come true. But I shook it off, embarrassed to wish there was a murderer in my town just to have something interesting to do.

“Well, we’d like to thank you boys for coming all the way down here,” Chief Kelly said, standing up. The smell of his eaten donut wafted over me once, stale and overly sweet. I turned my head away as he adjusted his belt behind my ear. 

“It’s our pleasure,” Agent Tench said as he walked over to shake the chief’s hand. I held my head away to give them space. Before he let go of Chief Kelly’s hand, 

Agent Tench winked at me like we were part of an inside joke. 

I smiled back, unable to stop myself, even though I didn’t understand the joke. 

The officers grouped around Tench and Ford, hands extended to test the FBI’s grip. They were all smiles of course, because it was customary for law enforcement to give each other a hard time. Basically a tradition, and the FBI agents were used to it, it seemed. 

I stood, collected my notebook and pencil, and stood just behind the crowd of men angling to give a stiff pat on the back to the agents, and possibly tell a quick war story or two. I watched carefully, making sure I’d have a chance to talk to them too.

Jack came up behind me and I heard his angry breath in my ear as he grabbed my arm. It was a subtle move and I doubted anyone thought he was about to yell at me, under his breath.

“What the fuck was that?” Jack said, whispering harshly. I could smell dipping tobacco on Jack’s breath very faintly, covered by the minty smell of his chewing gum. Jack only used it at home, alone, and denied it to everyone, even his mother. He thought it was a nasty habit. 

“I was interested in their presentation,” I replied, speaking a little louder than him. He gave my arm a strong squeeze. I knew better than to react.

“I told you to lay low,” Jack said, still whispering. “You are embarrassing me.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I said. I didn’t bother lowering my voice. Jack gave a hearty chuckle grinning at anyone around us who might have heard that. 

“Course not,” Jack said. He gave me an aggressive noogie before patting me on the butt and walked away. “You little rascal.”

I fumed inside, and tried to fix my hair after his stupid noogie. He did it on purpose, I was sure, to show that I belonged to him and to make me look silly. I’d embarrassed him, and now he was going to embarrass me, the rotten son of a bitch. I wanted to break up with him, but I knew that as soon as I did, he’d get me fired.

Jack put his hand on Chief Kelly’s shoulder and directed him out of the room, talking about football. With the chief gone, the other chiefs walked out too, and the officers slowly followed. Dale and Jose, from Valdez, left the agents with a recommendation of where to get the best BBQ in town, over at Chopping Block. Some other guys stood around, smoking and chatting, drinking coffee from styrofoam cups. Now, it was my turn at the agents.  
Ford and Tench looked at their watches and started packing. I smoothed my hair down once more, trying to push Jack completely out of my mind. 

“Excuse me,” I said, approaching the agents. “Sorry to trouble you. I just wanted to say it was a pleasure to learn from ya’ll, and to hear more about your work with the FBI. Your work sounds truly fascinating.”

I couldn’t help gushing on about them, and I only felt somewhat embarrassed.

“Hey, lady cop,” Agent Tench said, swinging around from the suitcase he was packing. “You’re not too bad yourself. You must have done your homework.”

“And your idea to catch the Bulldogger was insightful. I appreciate how you boiled it down to it’s basic principle, of who is being killed, and why. You have a knack for this.” Agent Ford said.

I blushed like a ripe tomato, I was sure. I never expected for them to praise me. 

“I really appreciate that. It’s a passion of mine,” I said. I wasn’t sure if I should openly admit that I was passionate about a topic like murder, but I didn’t know how else to say it.

“Join the club,” Agent Tench said, before going back to packing. “Sorry, we don’t mean to cut you off but we have to drive out to Gifford.” 

“You’re going to interview Jimmy right now?” I asked, eagerly. I realized I was holding my breath. 

“Yeah, we have an appointment,” Agent Tench glanced back at me to see my face, like he didn’t know if I was being sarcastic or not. 

“Oh lord, I wish I could be a fly on that wall,” I said, earnestly, and without thinking. “I heard that he and his wife had been happily married for 31 years with no signs of infidelity or sexual deviancy. His wife actually slapped a policeman for explaining to her what her husband was accused of because she didn’t believe it. I wonder if they’re still in contact or if she cut off all ties with him.”

“Well, why don’t you tag along?” Agent Ford said, immediately looking at his partner for confirmation.

“I don’t see why not,” Agent Tench. “You’ve clearly done your research, and we were wondering that same thing. Except.”

Agent Tench stopped organizing the projector in the suitcase and got to his feet to look me in the eye. He seemed very serious. It distracted me from the sheer joy I felt at being invited to go with them.

“You want to be very careful bringing up a wife or girlfriend who didn’t know what was going on,” Agent Tench said. “They might get angry, stop talking, and walk away. Wait for them to show signs of being okay with their ex before diving into that topic.”

“Really? So they feel protective of that person because they protected them from their own crimes?” I asked. I whipped out my pen and started scribbling down notes about criminals being sensitive about their spouses. 

“Yeah, that about sums it up,” Agent Tench said. I heard the smile in his voice. 

“We better get going,” Agent Ford said. “Do you need the chief to clear this?”

“I’ll get him,” I said. I ran down the hall to find the chief. 

Behind me I heard, “She’s a blue flamer.”

I didn’t know what that meant but the tone Agent Tench used was good natured and admiring so I took it as a compliment. 

I was back a moment later, all but dragging Chief Kelly by the elbow to get him in the room with the FBI agents. By that time the agents were all packed up and hauling out the equipment to their sedan. Jack glared at me as I walked towards the front door to the police station, visibly upset. His jaw was clenched and his nostrils flared like a bull. I didn’t pay him any mind.

“The chief wants to get your confirmation that you indeed asked me to join you on this interview,” I called out to the agents. Tench hauled the suitcase into their trunk, and Agent Ford was busy putting away their briefcase in the backseat. 

“Confirmation?” Agent Ford said.

“Yeah, we can confirm that we want Officer Turner to ride along with us this afternoon,” Agent Tench said. 

“Well, I don’t know,” Chief Kelly said with a significant look at me like this was something I’d concocted.

“I assure you she’ll just be there to observe. Only with your approval, though,” Agent Tench said, with his hands up in surrender. 

“Ah, well, sure,” Chief Kelly said. “Just have her back before 5:00 pm. And I expect you to finish up your paperwork before you go home today.”

He actually looked happy to be rid of me. 

“Yes, sir,” I said, as he walked back into the building. “Thank you, sir.”

And I meant it. He might be old fashioned but I thought, in the end, he wasn’t a totally bad guy, even if he was just trying to get me out of the police station for an afternoon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey ya'll. This chapter follows Agent Tench and Ford, with Officer Millie Turner, to an interview with a fictional murderer named Jimmy Dresden. 
> 
> I based Jimmy on killers who can be a big part of the community without anyone being the wiser as to their darker nature, including their own spouse and family - I was thinking of a John Wayne Gacy because he was preying on young boys. 
> 
> You'll see some more details about his crimes in Chapter 3, during the interview. :) Enjoy!

Chapter Two

I went down to the car, hauling my briefcase with a notebook and pen in it as well as working as my purse. I’d grabbed it when I grabbed Chief Kelly. Agent Tench got in the driver’s seat, and Agent Ford held the front row passenger seat door open for me. 

“Thank you,” I said as I ducked in. He nodded politely. 

Agent Ford sat in the back seat and we took off. 

“Thanks for inviting me along,” I said. “This is like a dream come true for me.”

“More the merrier,” Agent Ford said. “I do recommend that you let us ask the questions, especially to start with. We need to get a feel right away for how to talk to him and get him talking to us. Once we get into a rhythm, if you feel like a question needs to be asked, and it fits in with what we’re talking about, feel free to bring it up.”

“Just read the room on that,” Agent Tench said. “If he reacts to you and avoids eye contact, it’s probably best just to sit back and take notes. No need to push him. But if he seems comfortable with you in the room and has met with you in the eyes a few times, then you can try speaking up.”

“That’s great information,” I said, taking copious notes. “I don’t intend to say much, really, because I don’t have the experience. I am truly more interested in being a fly on the wall to observe you guys at work.”

“Hm,” Ford said, approvingly but also distractedly. He was reviewing a file, I assumed Jimmy’s file.

“So how hard was it to become the first female police officer in the city of Valdez?” Agent Tench asked, mimicking the way the chief had introduced me. He briefly glanced over and I noticed he had light blue eyes. Like the color of an icicle in the sun. 

“Oh yes, almost impossible,” I said. “My uncle, who retired from the force last year, got me into the academy. I passed the test 3 times before anyone would talk to me about actually getting a job. Then I had to pass it one more time before getting the job. Chief Kelly insisted that I should also start taking typing classes so I can help the boys with their paperwork.”

Tench pulled onto the highway and put on sunglasses. I wished I had brought mine too. The glare off the road was making my eyes water.

“Really?” Tench asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “I didn’t bother telling him I already had taken a typing course. What really pushed it over the edge was my boyfriend, Jack. He insisted they hire me, and vouched that I’d be dedicated to the job.”

“Jack?” Tench asked. “Was he one of the officers?”

“Yes,” I said. “He was the one talking about the Bulldogger.”

“Oh,” Tench said, with a knowing tone. I couldn’t tell if he meant it in a neutral way or a negative way. I wouldn’t blame him either way. I didn’t approve of my choice in boyfriends either. Jack was kind of abrasive.

“What about you?” I asked. 

“I became an FBI agent to catch bad guys. I wanted to be John Wayne,” Tench said. 

Agent Tench rolled down his window all the way and lit a cigarette. He took a pull off of it, blew the smoke out the window, and held the cigarette between his knuckles. It dangled out the window, where he flicked off ashes periodically. He seemed so casual that I felt like he did most of the driving when traveling with his partner. 

“Jimmy told his lawyer that he wanted to be tried under a pseudonym so that his family didn’t learn about what he’d done,” Ford said. “But he had all intentions of taking the punishment. Why go to the trouble? His wife would find out eventually that he was in prison.” 

The smell of Tench’s cigarette drifted over to me and I was surprised that it wasn’t unpleasant. I’d forgotten how cigarette tobacco smelled better than chewing tobacco like Jack did. Dammit, Jack, I thought. I wished I could just keep riding with these agents and never have to go back to fighting every day, including with my boyfriend, just to keep working. 

“He said he planned to commit suicide in prison and have his body shipped to his wife, with a letter from the governor stating that Jimmy died saving a kid from a fire,” I said. I loved having this conversation with them. I felt like I was in the right place. 

“Letter from the governor?” Ford said. I heard papers shuffling. “I don’t see that anywhere on his file.”

The car smelled like cooked leather, and the back of my thighs, where my skirt ended, stuck to the chair. It was slick, sticky, and uncomfortable. It wasn’t the first time I wished I could wear pants as part of my uniform. I adjusted in the seat, squeaking on the leather, before answering. 

“Oh, I don’t think it was official. They went another direction. The only reason I heard of it was because the lawyer dated my sister for 6 months and told us at the dinner table,” I said. “He advised Jimmy to go another direction.”

“You knew Jimmy’s lawyer?” Ford asked. “That’s amazing. What else did he say?”

“Well, he also said that Jimmy was clearly gay, and it surprised him that no one caught onto that sooner,” I said. “But I don’t think he was basing that on any real psychological insight.”

“Fascinating,” Ford said. “What made him say Jimmy was gay?”

“I think he wanted to sound macho,” I said. “I have a lot of big Italian cousins and he wanted to impress them. He didn’t offer any real evidence of why he thought Jimmy was gay. Everyone else I’ve met who knew Jimmy said he was just a regular, nice guy. He never made anyone uncomfortable.”

“Hm,” Agent Tench said with a nod.

“It’s ridiculous that a gay man would make anyone uncomfortable, of course,” I said, unable to keep my mouth shut. This was a subject that bothered me a lot. “The fact that he was attracted to little boys doesn’t make him gay either, it makes him a pedophile. But try telling that to the Southern Baptists of Valdez County. They believe the two things are not mutually exclusive.”

“It’s hard to convince any police force that a homosexual is not necessarily a pedophile,” Agent Tench said. “Whether it’s in Manhattan or Valdez.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s hard to expect police officers to accept a gay man if they won’t even accept a woman onto the police force.”

“Did Farrow ever mention anything about Jimmy’s artwork?” Agent Ford said. Farrow was the name of my sister’s ex, Jimmy’s lawyer. 

“He did,” I said. “He gave one of the paintings to my sister. She threw it away when they broke up. It was gorgeous. He did a beautiful swampy lake like an impressionist, with rays of sunlight.”

“She threw it away?” Agent Ford said, as if it were a sin.

“Unfortunately, yes,” I said. “I was mad at her too. I would have gladly kept that painting.”

Agent Tench draped one hand on the top of the steering wheel and took a drag on his cigarette. 

“How old were you when Jimmy was caught?” Agent Tench said. Some smoke came out of his nose when he spoke.

“I was about 10,” I said. “We lived in Fremont at the time, two streets away from Jimmy’s grocery store. I was even friends with Dee Stephens, the twins’ little sister, until they moved away.”

Agent Tench pulled off the highway onto the Fremont exit. The mental institute was outside of town by several miles. It was built far away on purpose to help the townsfolk feel safer. But as the town slowly expanded outwards, it got closer and closer to the mental institute. I had a feeling that eventually the town would reject the facility and either have it shut down for good, or relocated. 

When Tench got to the intersection right off the highway, he turned left, instead of right which would have led to downtown/historic Fremont. 

“Where did they move?” Agent Ford asked.

“Alberta,” I said. “That’s where the mom was from.”

“That’s pretty far,” Tench said. 

“Yeah, they were sick of everyone in town treating them differently, like perpetual victims,” I said. “Dee’s mom told my mom that everyone who looked at her had a funny expression, like they didn’t know what to say to her. And this was three years after the murders.”

“Small town life,” Agent Tench said. “Probably best to get away from that.”

“Did you ever see Jimmy in the grocery store before he got arrested?” Agent Ford asked me. 

“No,” I said. “If I did, I don’t remember.”

“You were pretty young,” Tench said. “I think we’re here.”

He pulled into a small parking lot outside of a barbed wire fence. There were patients in the yard, wearing roomy white jumpsuits, and doing various activities. Two were painting on canvases, some were wandering aimlessly, and then there were a few parked in wheelchairs, staring off into space. I could smell hints of bodily fluids and cleaning products through the open car windows. It would only get stronger once we got inside the building. 

“Let’s do it,” Tench said. He threw the car into park, and we rolled up the windows. 

“Do you guys have a tape recorder?” I asked. 

“Yup,” Tench said, getting out of the car. “We take notes too, to remember anything that wasn’t picked up on tape.”

I got out of the car, trying to do so in a dignified way, and unstick my thigh meat from the leather upholstery without incident. With briefcase in hand I shut the car door and followed the agents towards the big gate. Two large, armed security guards stood inside the gate with no expression on their face. I couldn’t help thinking about how Ford said multiple murderers become security guards because they want authority and couldn’t cut it as police officers. 

Of course, that didn’t mean all security guards, but still. 

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Tench said. He flipped open his badge, and Holden did the same thing. I showed my badge too just in case the guards cared. “We’re with the FBI. We have an appointment to meet with a patient at 2:30.”

The guard on the right stared at our badges like trying to memorize the details for a test. 

“And her?” the guard on the left, standing in front of me, said. He looked at me while he said it, but was clearly talking to the agents. 

“I’m observing,” I said. “I’m from the Valdez Police Department.”

I put the badge a few inches closer so he could see it. They both nodded and the guard on the right took out his keys to unlock the gate. It swung inward, and the other guard stood to the side to let us by. Since I’d never been to a prison or mental institute before, I looked at the agents and followed their lead. My heart hammered against my chest as I walked towards the front door. To my left was the courtyard I saw when pulling up, where the patients were enjoying recreational activities. A few of the patients had wandered over to the fence, and watched us walk by. 

One leaned into the fence, sticking his fingers through the links. He smelled the air as we walked by and grinned. I was nervous of him at first but seeing his smile, I felt like he was messing with us on purpose. When we met eyes, the weird smile faded and he spat on the ground next to him. 

“After you,” Agent Tench said, holding the door open. 

Agent Ford stood to the side with his hand in his pocket. He was looking at me, but he wasn’t paying attention. Ford looked nervous, and kept clenching his jaw muscle. I figured he was preparing to talk to Jimmy, and planning out what he could say to the man who’d killed twin 14 year old boys. 

It made me super nervous to see the expert sweating it out, so I kept my eyes forward after that and concentrated on breathing. Inhale, count to four, exhale, count to four. Nothing mattered but getting air into my belly, I told myself. Everything else would take care of itself. The killer would be friendly and easy going. Besides, the agents knew what to do in any situation.

I didn’t really believe that but it sounded nice.

The front desk was behind a thick window with a square opening to frame the front desk nurse. She watched me approach from over her horn rimmed glasses. 

“State your business,” she said, daring me to open my mouth.

I laughed nervously and showed her my badge. 

“I’m here-ahem- to interview with these agents,” I said, clearing my throat. Lucky for me Agent Ford came around my right and put his badge up.

“Sorry,” Ford said to me, casually. I nodded and backed up to allow him access to the scary nurse. 

Agent Tench showed his ID too. He nudged me with his elbow and smirked over his shoulder at me. 

“Don’t sweat it, you should be nervous,” Agent Tench said. “If you weren’t a little nervous to talk to a murderer in a mental institution, I’d be nervous.”

The two agents had to turn in their guns. I would have too, except I didn’t have a gun.

I smirked, trying to look grateful. Honestly, I was excited to meet Jimmy, so excited that I was worried I’d fuck it up somehow. I also wanted to impress the agents. There weren’t very many female FBI agents, and I had no reason to think that I could get the job, but it was my dream job. 

Not that Agent Ford and Agent Tench would hire me on the spot, because obviously it didn’t work that way. But I knew that if I fucked up in front of them, or somehow appeared cocky and uncoachable, I would lose out on the opportunity to have an agent as a job reference.

I followed them through the white hallway, past shut and locked doors. The outer wall was glass, bringing in a lot of natural light. It made the white paint on the walls glow. 

Near the end of the hallway, the guard that was guiding us stopped and gave a sharp rapping on the 2nd door to the last. I smelled the bleach in the hall barely covering the smell of urine. There was nice airflow in the hallway, and I thought I would like that. But somehow it made the place feel too sterile, like I couldn’t touch anything, or that I didn’t want to. 

A cry rang out from behind us, that ended in a howl. I glanced towards the sound, with my heart in my throat. 

After a second knock on the door, there was a muffled noise from within the room. It sounded like it could be an invitation. The guard must have agreed, because he opened the door. A short, somewhat stooped man stood there with short black curly hair, and deep lines around his eyes from smiling too much. He had small brown eyes that he used to make significant eye contact. 

When he looked into my eyes, he smiled, deepening the wrinkles. 

“Welcome, one and all,” Jimmy said, turning that smile on the agents and the guard.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Millie's first interview with a killer! Is she going to mess it up - or is she born to do this? Probably a little bit of both. 
> 
> This is a LONG chapter, and I apologize for that. I usually write pretty long chapters so get ready for more of those down the pipeline. 
> 
> Warning: this doesn't get extremely graphic but there are brief descriptions of violence during the interview with Jimmy Dresden. 
> 
> Also I mention smoking a lot in this fan fiction. It's only because more people smoked back then and it wasn't banned inside of buildings yet, so I figure it's just part of everyday life. I don't personally smoke, and so I understand if it makes you guys uncomfortable.
> 
> I hope you like it!

Chapter Three

Jimmy was wrapped up in a straight jacket. It wasn’t pulled very tight, and I wondered if he had arthritis or something that prevented him from breaking out of the jacket. At least I hoped he wouldn’t try. 

“Hello, Mr. Dresden,” Agent Tench said. He flashed his badge, and Ford followed suit. I was a few seconds late to the ID party. “We’re here to ask you some questions. Do you mind joining us in the conference room?”

“The FBI Agents. I remember making this appointment. You are studying murderers and you wanted to learn about me.” Jimmy said. He seemed pleasant and happy enough as if this were a casual thing to mention. 

“That’s correct. We hoped to hear your side of the story.” Agent Ford said. Jimmy approached us and I caught a whiff of his hair product. If he could style his own hair using pomade, and wear a loose straight jacket, his life was probably not too bad in the institute.

“It would be my pleasure,” Jimmy said. He had a quiet and calming voice like a father or grandfather. 

We backed up to give him space and Jimmy passed right by us towards the conference room. He nodded and winked at the security guard as he walked by.

“How ya doin, Tom?” Jimmy said to the guard. He sounded warm and friendly. 

“Fine, Jimmy,” Tom said. He nodded politely at Jimmy. 

We walked behind Jimmy as he went on his own to the conference room. He stopped at the door and waited for us to turn the handle for him. Agent Ford did so and allowed Jimmy to go in first. They nodded at each other. 

“That’s really the only drawback to living here,” Jimmy said. He sat on the floor near the far wall, cross legged like he was going to meditate. He had more flexibility than most men I knew. “Can’t use my thumbs.”

“Tom,” Agent Ford called out to the security guard. The guard gave Agent Ford a funny look for using his first name. “Can you remove Jimmy’s jacket please?”

“Jimmy?” Tom called out from the hallway. 

“No thanks, Tom,” Jimmy called back from his seat on the floor. Then he looked at Agent Ford. “I appreciate that but I prefer to leave the jacket on. I rarely take it off, you see. It helps me feel calm.”

“Of course,” Agent Ford said. “We just want you to feel comfortable.”

We all sat around the table. Agent Ford and Tench took a seat on either side of the table, diagonal to each other. Agent Ford gestured to the seat next to him for me. I gladly took it, happy to be in the corner so the agents could take more center stage. 

“I appreciate that,” Jimmy said.

I pulled out my notebook and pen and got it ready to start taking notes. 

“Mr. Dresden, we have a recorder to tape the interview,” Ford said. “Would you mind sitting up here at the table so it can pick up your voice?”

“Not at all,” Dresden said, standing quickly. It scared me, but I hoped the surprise didn’t show on my face. “You know, actually, I want to sit there.”

Jimmy gestured with his head to the chair where Agent Tench was sitting. I panicked, thinking I’d rather sit across from Tench than Jimmy.

“Why don’t you sit here?” Tench said, patting the chair next to him.

“You know, I’d love to but this damn rheumatism,” Jimmy said. He grimaced and shook his head. “If I sit under the air vent, my joints won’t work right for weeks. Do you mind terribly?” 

He had an accent like from New York City, I guessed. Something like that, definitely not from Texas. He sounded like a normal guy. I told myself I had nothing to worry about. 

Whether Jimmy really had rheumatism or not, Tench begrudgingly stood up and gave Jimmy his seat. I watched Jimmy sit down in a silent panic, and Tench shrugged at me as an apology.

“Thank you so much,” Jimmy said. He sat down across from me, and the moment his butt touched the chair he smiled at me. It was almost like a clown’s smile, painted on and too big. 

I cleared my throat and looked down at my notes from this morning. I didn’t read the notes, really, I just needed somewhere to look that wasn’t at the smiling murderer in the room. Agent Ford set the recorder between myself and Jimmy. I stared at it, intimidated, while he pressed record.

“So, Jimmy - may we call you Jimmy?” Ford asked. 

“Of course,” Jimmy replied. “I prefer it.”

As his head moved in the light, I caught glimpses of silver highlighting Jimmy’s coiffed black hair, showing his age. Tom, the guard, shut us into the conference room. The room had no windows, and fluorescent lights. At least it didn’t smell like bleach and bodily fluids, assumedly because the patients didn’t come in here as much. Instead I could only smell the failing deodorant of Agent Ford next to me. I was sure I didn’t smell great either. 

“What can I help you with?” Jimmy asked. “I’m sorry, what was your name, young lady?”

I snapped to attention as soon as he looked at me. It seemed like he could hear my heart beating faster. 

“Officer Turner,” I said. My voice sounded remarkably stable despite what was going on in my ribcage. “I work for the Valdez Police Department. I’m here with these special agents to observe the interview.”

I sounded like a calm, professional police officer. Well, what do you know. I hoped that meant I really was one.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jimmy said with a warm smile. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” I said, playing off of him. I was used to defaulting to southern hospitality, but I realized this might not be the time and place. It could sound like I was flirting, and it was on the FBI’s tape recorder. Great job, Millie.

“Jimmy,” Agent Ford said. “We’d like to ask you about the day you met the Stephens boys, Eric and Ryan. What can you tell us about that?”

“Oh I couldn’t tell you anything about that. It was too long ago,” Jimmy said. “I don’t even remember.”

“Really? It was only 13 years ago,” Agent Tench said, trying to encourage Jimmy.

A chime went off in the hallway, startling me. It was a precursor to an overhead announcement made by a woman with a soft voice. I couldn’t hear what she was saying.

“Hm,” Jimmy said. “That’s reading time. They get volunteers to come and read to whatever patients want to listen.”

“Wow,” I said, as he had been looking at me when he spoke. I felt like I needed to respond.

“Anyway,” Jimmy said, turning to Tench. “I didn’t meet them 13 years ago. I killed them 13 years ago. I met them probably when they were babies.”

“So you had known of them for their whole lives,” Agent Ford said. He made it sound like he was astonished by this fact, and almost praised Jimmy for something. Being a good grocer? Not killing them for all those years? I don’t know, but he sounded genuine.

“Oh yeah, sure,” Jimmy said. “Just like, I’m pretty sure I know this young lady right here. Did your mom used to bring you and your older sister to my store?”

Jimmy was looking at me with a knowing eye, like we were old neighbors about to catch up. I froze for a moment, surprised he would try to recognize me. 

“Yes, I grew up in Fremont,” I said. “We lived close to your store. I don’t think I ever met you though.”

“No, no, we wouldn’t have met,” Jimmy said. “I just always kept an eye on the children in my store. I wanted to make sure no one would snatch them up and run off. That would have been bad for business.”

“You watched children in order to protect them,” Agent Ford said. He jotted some notes down. 

“Absolutely,” Jimmy said. “You see, I knew what it was like to watch children and have inappropriate feelings about them, boys and girls. So I always, always, kept an eye out, particularly for the special children. The beautiful ones.”

“You were looking at boys and girls?” Agent Ford said. He leaned forward onto the table to take faster notes. 

“Tell me something, Jimmy,” Agent Tench said. He allowed a small hint of disapproval to his tone, like a stern coach or teacher. “You say that you would watch children to pick out the beautiful ones. What constituted beauty in your eyes?”

“What constitutes beauty?” Jimmy repeated, incredulously. “I would love to help answer that question, Bill, but farbeit for me to explain a concept that artists and poets have been exploring for centuries.”

I found myself impressed with his answer and agreeing with him. He really was charismatic. If I were talking to him on the street, I didn’t know if I could pinpoint him for a killer and a pedophile. I wrote that down, because it seemed significant. 

Bill, Agent Tench, didn’t seem to agree. He gave Agent Ford a dead eyed look, as if to ask if this guy was for real. 

“Why don’t you describe what made the Stephens boys beautiful?” Agent Tench said, rewording his question to avoid too much philosophy. 

“Ah, those boys,” Jimmy said, shaking his head. “They’d been beautiful for years. Eric had a crooked smile that could make you want to cry. Both blond, blue eyes, glowing skin. They were rambunctious as boys should be. Although, I remember you being rambunctious too, little lady.”

Jimmy winked at me along with the fake reprimand. I smiled back and gave a little shrug. If I really thought he had remembered me, I would have been more nervous, but all the things he said about seeing me in his store were general and could be applied to almost every kid. 

Agent Tench raised his brow, looking from Jimmy to myself. Agent Ford interjected. 

“Would you have said that Officer Turner here was one of the beautiful children that you kept an eye on?” Agent Ford said. Taken back by this new line of questioning, I glared at Agent Ford, speechless. What the hell was he doing? I didn’t want to be brought into this. 

“I’m happy to disclose, but I wouldn’t want to make the young lady uncomfortable,” Jimmy said. He could tell I was feeling anxious.

“Oh, I understand. A simple yes or no would suffice,” Agent Ford said. He glanced at me, encouraging me to agree. “I’m simply attempting to understand better what you mean by looking out for the special ones.”

Jimmy continued to watch me with the question on his face. 

“Please, continue,” I said, swallowing my discomfort. I still wanted to be here more than anywhere else in the world. I was sure these agents were no stranger to awkward situations when talking to killers before. If they could take it, so could I, I decided. 

“Then the answer is yes,” Jimmy said. “Millie was young at the time, maybe eight or nine, last I saw her. But I thought she was special. And I was right, wasn’t I? Look at you now, a female police officer. That’s big news in Texas, even in this day and age.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, letting myself do my Texan accent, which I normally worked to repress. Jimmy nodded, looking at me with pride. 

Agent Tench took out his pack of cigarettes and hit it against his palm to make one come out. It took Jimmy’s attention away from me, and I breathed easier. 

But I still didn’t think he knew who I was, not really. He could have seen all of our first names when we flashed our badges. 

“What would you do with these special children?” Agent Tench said. He lit up his cigarette and blew the smoke away from the table, towards the corner behind him. 

“Do you mind if I snag one of those?” Jimmy said. His small brown eyes glittered. “I can’t say the last time I had a smoke.”

Agent Tench nodded. He let the cigarette hang from his mouth as he pulled out another for Jimmy, put it in Jimmy’s mouth and lit it for him. Jimmy took a hit and closed his eyes, in pure bliss. He turned and blew it out towards the door, and maneuvered the cigarette to the side of his mouth so he could speak. 

“Much obliged,” Jimmy said. “In any case, about the kids. If I saw a special one, I would just watch out for them. I didn’t need to do anything else, because just seeing them was enough for me. I thought of them as cherubs, kindly allowing me to bask in their beauty.”

“Except with Eric and Ryan,” Agent Ford said, as if reminding Jimmy. “What was different about them?”

“Like I said, they were particularly radiant,” Jimmy said. “Do you mind, Bill?”

Agent Tench took a deep, mildly annoyed breath, and took Jimmy’s cigarette to tap the ash off of it into the black ash tray in the middle of the table. I could smell it much better in the room with no windows than I had in the car. It reminded me of the cigarettes my first boyfriend had smoked, and helped me relax a little with that pleasant memory.

He popped the cigarette back in Jimmy’s mouth. 

“Anyway, I saw them in the store one day. It was just after they turned 14, and Ryan had a gal on his arm,” Jimmy said. He took another drag before continuing. “I knew that girl too, if only by reputation. She was older than them, probably 16, and she was the bad sort. Her mom had been married three or four times, and each time the men she chose got worse and worse. I don’t remember the girl’s name, because she hadn’t been on my list, you understand. I just knew she was bad news, and I wanted her nowhere near Eric and Ryan. I couldn’t just sit by and let them be corrupted.”

I wrote that down, particularly fascinated that Jimmy seemed so genuine about this explanation. 

“You were mad because they started dating?” Tench said. 

“Dating the wrong girls,” Jimmy corrected.

“Well, Jimmy, some would say that’s just part of growing up,” Tench said.

“No, not for the special ones,” Jimmy said. “They deserve something better.”

“In your confession, you said that you saved them from growing up,” I said. “Were you saving them from that girl?”

“Yes,” Jimmy said, matter-of-factly. He looked me in the eyes, and I looked right back. “The longer the two dated, the less Ryan radiated. He was becoming less than himself right before my eyes, and it affected Eric too, to a lesser extent. So I decided to take them under my wing.”

We continued to make uninterrupted eye contact. I didn’t know why but it felt important not to interrupt him even by looking away. Looking into his shining brown eyes, surrounded by laugh lines, made me feel like it was just the two of us in this room. Almost hypnotizing, but I felt like I was hypnotizing him too. 

“You tried to hire them at your store,” I said, pulling from memory. 

“Yes,” Jimmy said. “Eric said yes, but not Ryan. Ryan blew me off, made it seem like the job of bagging groceries was beneath him. I tried to explain to him that I wanted to get him started on the right path, you see, keep an eye on him. But he didn’t care, he just wanted to goof off, and spend time with his girlfriend. So, I decided that they had to be stopped. I had to save them from themselves, and from the Bathshebas of the world. What else could I do?”

“You wanted to make sure their light didn’t go out,” I said. I sounded empathetic, and I played into that for the moment. Once I acknowledged this for him, Jimmy nodded and his expression softened.

“I should have known you would understand, Millie,” Jimmy said. “You still shine like the last time I saw you. Thank the merciful lord that you didn’t go down the wrong path.”

“When you say the Lord, do you mean the Christian faith?” Agent Tench interrupted. It broke the spell between Jimmy and myself, and I had to blink a few times to acclimate. That had been pretty intense. 

Jimmy gave Tench a funny look.

“It’s the same lord no matter who's worshipping him, no?” Jimmy said. “Can you kill this for me? I’ve had my fun.”

Agent Tench tapped Jimmy’s cigarette out into the ashtray. The extinguished smell washed over me, and I stopped breathing for a second to block it out. I couldn’t keep reliving my time with my first boyfriend in conjunction with interviewing a murderer. 

“So, Jimmy, does that mean you consider yourself to be religious?” Ford said. “The Stephens were found with their hands and feet cut off. Did you consider that to be part of a ritual, possibly akin to the crucifixion?” 

“You know, I’ve been asked that before, and I’m going to tell you the same thing I told them,” Jimmy said. He leaned forward toward Agent Ford. “I cut those off so the bodies couldn’t be identified. It obviously didn’t help, as you can see.”

Agents Ford and Tench started taking notes.

“You know,” Jimmy said, “I took the heads home with me to put in my garden shed, so I could keep an eye on them. And for their hair, I always loved their hair. It still glowed in the sunlight after they died.”

“Did you speak with them?” Agent Ford asked. 

“Yes,” Jimmy said. “I wept over them.”

“Why did you weep?” I asked. Jimmy met my eyes again and we were locked in again.

“Because I saved them,” Jimmy said. “I wept tears of joy, knowing that the boys had made it back to paradise. They were on the verge of being corrupted but I stepped in just in time, while they were still innocent.”

“Did you still consider them innocent after you had sex with their corpses?” I asked. My question could have sounded judgmental, and I hoped it didn’t in case it made him stop talking. We were getting some really good information, or at least I thought so.

Jimmy considered that for a moment, looking at me with pursed lips. 

“They were already dead,” Jimmy said. “Once they had moved on to paradise, the boys were safe, even from me. See, what I did with them afterwards was my own sin. I’ve always known I wasn’t meant for paradise. And yet even knowing there was nothing I could do to redeem myself, I still wanted to watch out for children, and help them stay innocent. I think I’ve done that.”

“You tried to help them,” I said, acknowledging his motive so he felt heard. “You sacrificed your freedom for it.”

“It was worth it,” Jimmy said. “I would have done the same for you.”

“Thank you,” I said, the twang very apparent. At first I could accept the compliment, but then the darker, deeper meaning sunk in. 

Was he picturing me as a young girl dead in the woods? Would he have talked to my head for days afterwards, touching my hair like he did with Ryan and Eric? I felt a little sick thinking about it.

I realized that Agent Ford was looking at me and Agent Tench was taking notes, smoking, and shaking his head. I met Ford’s eyes trying to assess his reaction. Was he upset? Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut. The tension rose in my chest like acid reflux and I swallowed hard before looking back at my notebook. 

I hoped I didn’t just ruin everything.

“Jimmy, I want to thank you for being so open with us,” Agent Ford said. “I only have one more question, if you’ll permit me. Did you engage in sexual intercourse with any of the other children you saw in your store before Ryan and Eric?”

“No, never,” Jimmy said. He could have been lying, but it didn’t seem that way. “I worked hard to keep myself in control.”

Agent Ford opened his mouth to say something else, but Jimmy pushed his chair back loudly. 

“It was a pleasure to meet you gentlemen,” Jimmy said, getting to his feet. Agent Ford stood up too. “I hope I could offer you whatever information you hoped for.”

Jimmy used his elbow to bang on the conference room door. Tom opened it for him, and the two stood on the threshold for a second. 

“We appreciate your candor,” Agent Ford said. 

“Thanks for the smoke,” Jimmy said with a nod to Tench. Tench nodded back but he was frowning. 

“Take care of yourself, Millie,” Jimmy said, slowly looking from Tench to me. “I’d say you should come visit me sometime, but I don’t think I should see you again.”

He stepped out quickly and walked down the hall. An orderly stood there with a clipboard and put his arm around Jimmy as they walked away.

Once Jimmy was out of sight I let out a long breath. In his wake, I could still smell a whiff of his pomade. 

“You survived your first interview, rookie,” Agent Tench said, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray. “How do you feel?”

He and Agent Ford started packing up their recorder and notes.

“I’m tired,” I said, surprised at how true it was. “And exhilarated. I just hope I didn’t fuck it up.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good evening!
> 
> In this chapter you get to see more of the dynamic between Millie and her boyfriend Jack. He is a jealous boy and has a temper. Warning, there are some non consensual acts on the way. 
> 
> Anyway, Tench and Holden don't feature here, these are all OG characters. 
> 
> I hope you like it! More to come soon!

Chapter Four

I got back to work at 4:05, plenty of time before the chief’s proposed curfew. The agents dropped me off at the front of the police station, and we planned to meet up for dinner later at Chopping Block, the BBQ place everyone loved. I walked into the police department, my mind reeling from the interview. I beamed at everyone I passed, bursting with energy. 

The chief’s office was open and I let myself in. Jack was in there too, and they looked up at me too silently, like they’d just been talking and stopped suddenly. I didn’t care, let them talk about me.

“I’m back!” I said, cheerfully. “See? You said 5:00 and I’m an hour early. And, oh my gosh, I had such an experience. I’ve never felt so alive. And Jimmy is FASCINATING!” 

I knew that the two men were glaring at me and wishing I would shut up. But I couldn’t help myself, the emotions were too strong to bottle up in order to appease two grumps. Jack and Chief Kelly exchanged looks before Jack stood up and walked towards me. 

“That’s great, Millie,” Jack said, big smiles. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Yeah, but I have to finish my paperwork,” I said, loud enough for the chief to hear. The chief merely sniffled a bit, and straightened the papers on his desk. Ugh. Fucking coward. 

“What is it?” I snapped. I finally turned around and let him walk me out of the chief’s office. Jack had me by the elbow and it looked like he was heading to the break room. 

“I just want to have a little chat in private,” Jack said. He tried to sound casual but he was enunciating too much. 

We passed by Aaron, the quiet cop who does what he’s told. Jack smiled so brightly at Aaron that the man actually took a step back, like he was afraid.

“How’s it going?” Jack said to Aaron as we passed. 

“Goo-oood?” Aaron said, too late. He wasn’t used to Jack being nice to him. The only reason Jack was being nice to him, and not slapping things out of his hand for a laugh, was because he was mad at me and didn’t want anyone to know it.

To my surprise, Jack walked straight past the break room and dragged me into the women’s powder room. Since it was only two women, myself and Mrs. Fernandez, in the office, we had an old closet, with a toilet and sink stuck in it. Obviously, it was made as if they didn’t understand the creatures who would use it. For instance, there was carpet instead of tile on the floor. 

Mrs. Fernandez adored Jack, and treated him like a spoiled grandson. She brought him baked treats at least once a week. If she caught him yelling at me in the ladies’ room, she’d probably assume it was my fault, none of her business, and not tell anyone about it. I assumed that’s why Jack had me locked inside the ladies’ room instead of arguing in the break room where his boys would see him lose his cool. 

Not that Mrs. Fernandez hated me, we got along really well. But I knew that everyone would side with Jack if it were between the two of us. He was a god around here, and I was the pesky newcomer.

Jack shut the bathroom door, locked it and turned to look at me. His dark brown eyes peered out from beneath his eyebrows, and his nostrils flared. 

“Millie, what do you see when you look at me?” Jack said. There was a vein throbbing in his neck. 

“A cop,” I said. I was trying to get the answers right to avoid as much of this argument as possible. I honestly did have paperwork to do, and I was NOT missing that dinner with the FBI agents. 

“Yes, good,” Jack said. “And what do you see when you look at yourself?”

Oh, fuck, I thought, with the power of God helping me to stop myself from reacting to Jack’s little insults. He knew I wanted to say a cop too, and start that fight all over again of what he really thought about woman cops. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of dragging me down.

“Your hot ass girlfriend,” I said, putting my hands on my hips, daring him to disagree.

To Jack’s credit, he seemed to calm down. On the other hand, was it to his credit that the only way I could even come close to communicating with him was through sex? Probably not so much.

“I love you so much Millie,” Jack said, coming towards me like animal control closing in on a rabid raccoon. I let him wrap his arm around me and sink his face into my hair. He held on too tightly for it to seem loving. 

“I love you too, Jack Frost,” I said, begrudgingly. 

Jack kissed my neck and continued kissing down to my shoulder. He nuzzled his nose into the collar of my uniform to kiss my clavicle. I could smell the air wick blossom scent hanging in the air. Mrs. Fernandez had brought it in to make the place more appealing. 

“Mmmm,” I said, leaning my head forward onto his. My skin tingled where his lips touched me. It did feel nice, a small release and comfort after the shock of meeting Jimmy Dresden. But I knew I couldn’t let this go on much longer.

Jack ran his tongue from my clavicle to my ear and started sucking on my neck. Uh oh! Time to reel ‘er in. 

“Hold your horses,” I said. “We’re at work. I have work to do.” I emphasized each statement as its own reason why he had to stop. 

“We can make this quick,” Jack said. He rested his forehead on mine, grinning like the devil. “It don’t have to take any time at all, honey.” 

In a quick swing, Jack lifted me up and sat me on the sink. He pushed my skirt up to my hips and hugged me so tightly I could feel his erection digging into me. Plus, when his twang started to come out heavier, Jack was losing control. This wasn’t going to be easy for me to talk him out of.

“Jackie, no,” I said, in a pouting, pleading voice. It seemed counterintuitive but it was actually a great way to get him to listen to what I was saying when he got like this. Jack looked back and forth between my eyes, as if deciding whether or not to acknowledge what I’d said. 

Then his mouth was on my mouth and he held tightly to the back of my skull. As he kissed me, he clenched his fist into my hair, pulling it at its roots. I didn’t have a sensitive scalp, so it didn’t hurt. But I knew that he was pulling harder than he used to, since I hadn’t told him to stop. He was pushing my limits. 

I could smell Jack’s old spice aftershave warm off of his neck. It filled my nose and reminded me of when Jack and I started dating. Those were good times, before he started letting me see his true self. 

Jack readjusted his grip to hold the sides of my face as he shoved as much of his tongue as he could manage into my mouth. I fought the urge to bite down on his tongue, and struggled against him, squirming in his grip. 

I pulled away and stuck my elbows down between our bodies to hold him off.

“Okay, sugar, you’ve had your fun,” I said, soothingly as if telling a harmless bar patron that it was closing time. “I got to get back to work.” 

“You really are an eager beaver,” Jack said, trying to hurt my feelings. He still held his arms tightly around me, just enough to put a strain on my arms holding him back. “For your job at least.”

“You can have some eager beaver when I’m at your house, you know that,” I said, giving him a look with my mouth open, trying to entice him just a touch. At the same time I pushed harder against him to hold him off. 

“Come on, Jackie,” I said after a moment of silence, where Jack stared at me, considering his next step. “I don’t want to get in trouble again.”

“You are in trouble,” Jack said. He flexed his arms suddenly, jerking me towards him. Then he eased back, staring into my eyes to show me that he was stronger than I was. “I didn’t like how you were looking at those FBI fuckers. And as soon as they ask you to tag along, you run after ‘em like a goddamn floozy.”

I shook my head back and forth as soon as I could tell what he was hinting at. He grabbed the back of my head to hold it steady.

“Look at me,” Jack said. “Where were you this afternoon? Huh?”

“I was at the mental institute in Fremont,” I said, enunciating carefully. “We drove there, did the interview, and drove back. That’s it.”

“Did they make a pass?” Jack asked, daring me to lie.

“No,” I said, gritting my teeth. “They’re professionals. And so am I.”

“Good,” Jack said with a sneer. He leaned in closer. “If I hear any differently, I’m going to be very upset, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to control my actions. Do you understand me?”

Oh god, I thought, I can’t listen to this bullshit anymore. I closed my eyes to stop myself from rolling them sky high, and nodded.

“Mmhmm,” I said. “Loud and clear.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t believe him. I knew Jack would want to murder me if I cheated on him. What annoyed me was that he kept on accusing me of fucking other guys, and I was starting to think maybe that’s just what I needed to do. Of course, I’d never cheated on anyone before, and I wasn’t about to start just to prove a point to thick-skull Jack. But it was mighty tempting.

Jack kissed me again, and this time he forced himself to be gentle. 

“Let’s go,” he whispered. “Let the boys see what it looks like when I get you alone.”

I sighed, and let him lead me out by the hand. I used my free hand to adjust my skirt and make sure it wasn’t flipped up anymore. Either way, it didn’t matter. They would be proud of Jackie boy. That was another reason he didn’t force me any further. He almost cared more about the perception of getting laid than actually getting laid. 

Dale was in the break room and saw us getting out of the lady’s room. I looked down at the ground and straightened my hair. No matter what I did, Dale was going to think that we had sex. So I just did what I needed to do to get to my desk, and that was to follow Jack’s lead. 

Jack dropped me off at my desk with a noogie and a loud chuckle for the guys’ sake. They parroted the laugh, but there wasn’t any mirth in it. I sat at my desk, patted down my hair, one more time, and picked up a pen to do my paperwork. 

It was easy to forget about Jack and the boy’s club, and the negligent chief, when I was doing actual work - even filling out paperwork. I knew it had a purpose, and that the magnifying glass was on me because I was the only girl. I had to get the paperwork pitch perfect every single time, and I liked that challenge. It made me feel like I was starting to climb the ladder. 

At the end of the day, I dropped off my paperwork and slipped out the front door as casually but quickly as possible before Jack could catch up. He was chit chatting with his buddies, and hadn’t seen me slip past. Thank god. I didn’t need to try and explain to him that I was going to dinner with two other men, let alone the FBI agents he was threatened by. 

I got into my car, and pulled away from the police station like a bat out of hell. The further I got without Jack running out to catch me the happier I felt. 

The problem was I hadn’t changed out of my uniform. I didn’t bother taking the time, knowing I had to get out quick. But there was no way I was walking in that restaurant in my uniform. When I got to Chopping Block, I parked in near the back, where the lot backed onto the woods. There were only a few cars over here, and none of them appeared to be occupied. So I turned off my car, and dressed as quickly as I could in the driver’s seat. 

I changed into my civilian clothes, a denim skirt and a long sleeve, floral peasant blouse. I also put on a pair of tan platform boots. It was the only big-city style outfit I owned, and I’d packed it this morning just in case I had the chance to hang out with the agents off the clock. I hadn’t believed it possible at the time, but thought it better to plan optimistically. I took out my bottle of Chantilly perfume from my purse and gave myself a few spritz around the neck and shoulders. 

I walked to the front of Chopping Block, my platform shoes clunking on the pavement. It was a brick building with a gable roof and dark wooden shingles. It was the town’s nice restaurant, where people would go for anniversaries. It wasn’t fancy or anything, but Valdez was really just a glorified college town. You had to go to a bigger city to find a real classy joint. Chopping Block was a step up from our other restaurants because they just happened to have table cloths and served good steak. 

The smell of Chopping Block's signature BBQ sauce wafted out of the doorway and made my stomach growl. In the trees just yards away, I could hear crickets chirping, and flies and mosquitoes humming around in the evening air. With the sun almost down, the sky was a dark orange color, and it gave the air an amber glow. But of course it hadn't cooled off just because the sun was going down, no, no. The air was as humid and sticky as usual, and I already started to sweat on my fresh shirt. 

Right before walking up to the front door, I stopped and pulled out my compact mirror to check my hair. Before work this morning, I had pulled my hair into a cute bun, like a girl in a magazine, or at least I had tried to. After that bathroom fiasco, my makeup and hair had been wrecked. I took the bun out, let my hair fall down my shoulders, and tried to adjust my bangs and waves to look at least somewhat premeditated. Then I applied a nice layer of bright red lipstick. It popped like a fucking cherry, and I loved it. With one more lip-smack, I pushed the door open into the BBQ to find those agents.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh hi there!
> 
> Welcome to a new chapter. This is Millie out to eat with Tench and Ford at the local steakhouse/BBQ place. It's cool and whatever, but she's going to be in deep doodoo if Jack finds out. :|
> 
> Here we introduce Millie's dyslexia, and she gets some good tips from the agents about how to advance her career. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

I saw Agent Tench and Ford as I walked into the room. It was a wide open area with dimly lit sconces and dark wood siding on the walls. To the left of the entrance was a short, corner bar with four stools at it. Along the right wall, there were booths with button tufted, tan leather upholstery, and carved wooden dividers between the booths. All the other tables were scattered around the dining area.

There were families with kids, old couples, and a few servers bustling around. I could smell the cooking meat, fresh baked dinner rolls, and perfume from the ladies I passed. It sounded like walking through a beehive with all the conversations buzzing soundlessly in my ears. 

Agent Tench and Ford were sitting at a table near the center of the room. There were two empty seats at the square table, and a condiment caddy in the middle, with ketchup, relish, salt, pepper, and the Chopping Block’s own signature BBQ sauce in an unlabeled squeezy bottle. There was also a fake flower poking up out of the caddy. Beneath the caddy and menus, was a creamy white tablecloth that ran to the floor.

They saw me coming and both men half stood from their seats while I took a seat next to Agent Ford. It felt right, after sitting next to him in the interview, which had simultaneously been the best and scariest time of my life. The boys sat down too and Agent Tench smoothed down his tie. They had their suit jackets on, and were the only guys in the whole restaurant in “Sunday best,” as we’d call it in Valdez. 

“How was your afternoon in the town?” I said. Agent Tench picked up his menu, and Ford and I followed suit. 

“Great,” Agent Tench said. “We went back to the hotel to regroup and wash up. I figured we owed it to you to not have to smell us over dinner.”

“With the smell of cooking meat in this place, I don’t see how anyone could smell something else,” Agent Ford said, looking around the restaurant in appreciation. 

“Best smelling place in town,” I said, with a joke twang. 

“Do you eat here often?” Agent Tench said. 

“Sometimes,” I said. “If I do eat out, it’s usually at the burger place up the road. It’s Jack’s favorite place, and it’s a little cheaper for dates.” I whispered the last part so the other tables couldn’t hear me talk about being poor. It wasn’t polite to discuss at dinner.

“How cute. You guys are living in Happy Days,” Agent Tench said. It was a good natured jab, but when I looked up at him, I saw something in the way he tightened his eyebrows that said otherwise. He was uncomfortable hearing about my dates with Jack and instead made a joke out of it. Hm. Interesting. 

“How about you two?” I said, hiding a bit behind my menu. “Do you have wives at home?”

“I do,” Agent Tench said. “Ford has a girlfriend.”

The waiter walked by and Agent Tench turned to get his attention. 

“Excuse me,” Agent Tench said. “I think we’re ready to order now.”

I balked for a second, and realized that even though I’d been staring at the menu for several minutes, I hadn’t read one word of it. I quickly scanned the entrees, and the letters danced in front of me with no meaning. Uh oh. 

“Millie, what’ll you be having?” Agent Tench said. He looked me in the eye.

“I’ll have a bourbon sweet tea,” I said to Tench. “And the burger.”

I gave up on trying to read the menu, because the letters kept flip-flopping in my brain. Instead I said the first thing I saw on someone else’s table, at least for food. I already knew what to drink. 

He nodded and turned to the waiter.

“The lady’ll have the burger, medium well, and a bourbon sweet tea, easy on the ice,” Tench said. “I’ll have a double whiskey, neat, and the sliced brisket platter. Holden?”

Tench had taken some liberties with my order and I smiled to myself, somewhat confused by him. It was an old fashioned move, to order for the lady. In this instance, I appreciated the gesture. 

“And I’ll have the BBQ chicken platter, please,” Agent Ford said. “And a beer.”

“We got shiner bock,” the waiter said with a sniff. “That okay?”

“Sure,” Agent Ford said, clearly not sure what that was. The waiter didn’t care, he nodded, finishing up his notes and thanked us before tottering off to the kitchen. 

I took another peak at the menu, and noted that the letters and numbers were finally facing the right way again. Most of the time I didn’t have trouble reading, but when I got anxious, it was almost impossible for me to get the letters right in my head. I gestured for Agent Ford to hand me his menu, and I disposed of them on the place setting next to me. Tench put his menu on top.

“How was it back at the office?” Agent Tench asked me.

“I kept thinking about Jimmy Dresden and the interview,” I said. “I went over it a million times in my head, trying to remember every question we all asked to figure out the flow of the conversation, and where it might have gone wrong to get him to leave. It’s such fascinating work. I can’t imagine what it would be like to do that all the time.”

We’d talked about it a little in the car ride back to the police station. I had asked them question after question to understand their methodology, and to figure out if I had done a good job. Agent Ford had said there was room for refinement, but overall, we’d had an informative session with Jimmy.

“You seem pretty interested in the topic of criminal behavior,” Agent Tench said. “Are you working your way towards Quantico?”

I smiled and probably blushed. Aw, shucks, guys. 

“I don’t know if you’re joking right now, but I would absolutely love to work at Quantico. I’ve made that my goal since college. I knew it was a good idea to start out as a cop, and I wanted to do that anyway since I was a kid. Then, in college, I had an amazing psych professor, and I went for a double major in criminal justice and psychology.”

“Interesting choice,” Tench said.

The barmaid brought us our drinks. Tench handed her a dollar once she’d put two glasses and Ford’s bottle down. I swirled the ice around in my bourbon sweet tea, and it gave off a smell like butterscotch. 

“Thank you, Wanda,” I said loud enough for her to hear me over the din.

“No trouble, sugar,” Wanda replied. I could tell she didn’t recognize me. 

We graduated high school together, but hadn’t been close friends. She had a cigarette stuck in the side of her mouth and her permed blond hair was pulled into a puffy scarf around her neck. The guy at the table behind Wanda slapped her butt and guffawed with his friends. In response, she wagged a finger at him and walked away.

“So what does your wife and girlfriend think of all your travel?” I asked. 

I took a sip of the bourbon sweet tea, and had a brief nostalgic memory of my mom brewing sun tea during hot afternoons on our porch. 

“My girlfriend Debbie is working on her masters in Sociology. So she’s extremely busy anyway, and doesn’t seem to mind,” Agent Ford said. He tasted his Shiner Bock and nodded in approval. 

“Wow,” I said, “That’s fascinating! Do you know what she plans to do with it?” 

I loved learning about women choosing non-traditional careers. There was nothing wrong with teaching elementary school, of course, but what about being an astronaut? Or an engineer? 

“Well, no, we haven’t discussed it,” Agent Ford said. “But really you can only be a professor with a degree like that.”

“She told us at dinner that she wants to be a social worker,” Agent Tench said. His tone of voice was a touch sarcastic, as if to say that Agent Ford should have known that. “Help inner city kids.”

“Really?” Agent Ford said. “She never seems interested in children.”

I stared at him for a moment after that comment, trying to figure out if Tench was messing with Ford. I guessed Agent Ford didn’t ask his girlfriend a lot of questions.

The food came right then. The waiter put down Tench’s brisket and Ford’s chicken first. Then I got my hamburger, with french fries. Yum! I popped a french fry in my mouth immediately. It was golden and crispy, with some salt and a dab of tangy ketchup. Mmmm. 

“Thank you,” I said to the waiter. He nodded, wiped his hands on his white apron and tottered off. 

“And what about your wife?” I asked Agent Tench. 

I was still eating french fries. Tench positioned his fork and knife to cut into some brisket. Agent Ford took a moment to tuck his napkin into his shirt.

“Nancy?” Agent Tench said. “She’s used to it. I’ve been doing road school for years now. She has her own job as a real estate agent, and takes care of our son. Then I take over for a bit when I get home.”

“Interesting,” I said. “It sounds like you two have lucked out. Do they worry about the type of work it is? Do they want to hear details?”

I took a bite of my hamburger, and tried not to let the juices go down my front. Ugh. It wasn’t pleasant to chew through, imagining where the meat had come from. I should have ordered a salad, I told myself, or a baked potato. When Jack and I went to the burger place, I usually only ate fries and a milkshake. 

“Absolutely,” Agent Ford said. He was digging into his chicken now, and used the bottle of BBQ sauce to add more to his plate. “Debbie discusses almost every aspect of the interviews with me. She has good insights coming from a sociology background.”

“Yeah, but she’s a special case,” Agent Tench said. “If I told my wife the kind of things we heard today from Jimmy Dresden, she’d have nightmares for a month.”

“It is pretty unsettling,” I said, remembering how bright and joyful his eyes looked when he talked about the boys’ radiance. 

“You didn’t seem unsettled,” Agent Ford said, gesturing to me with his fork. “You got him to open up about why he did what he did. He looked like he trusted you completely. I wasn’t sure you should talk to him, since he was clearly fixated on manipulating you, but you were able to use that against him.”

“What I want to know is why he automatically assumed you’d been to his store,” Agent Tench said. 

“I think he saw that I was affected by meeting him,” I said, with a critical tone about myself. I should have had a better poker face.

“Do you look anything like you did when you were ten?” Agent Tench asked me with a twinkle in his eye.

“Uh, no,” I said, with a smile, “I don’t think so.”

“Or he could have recognized your last name,” Agent Ford said. “Jimmy was a prominent member of a small community. He might have known all the families in the neighborhood.”

“It’s possible,” I said. “Most people at least knew my dad since he was a really good plumber.”

“What I found most fascinating was that he said he had never molested a child prior to the murder of Eric and Ryan. Most of the killers we’ve talked to have to ramp up to killing.”

“That confused me too,” Agent Ford said. “If he loved children and obsessed over them as much as he says he did, and it ended in him killing kids just to have sex with their corpses, don’t you think he would have been at least touching young boys prior to that?”

Wanda, my friend from high school, weaved by the table and peered over her shoulder at Agent Ford with a weird look on her face, as if she didn’t know what she heard, but didn’t like it. Wanda didn’t pause to inquire further, but it was enough to have Agent Tench staring dead eyed at his partner for saying the words “sex,” “corpse,” and “killing kids” loudly enough for the neighboring tables to hear. 

“I remember taking notes on that part,” I said. “What you really asked him was had he ever had sex with a child, not had he ever molested a child before. He could have been telling the truth that it was his first time having sex with a child, but that’s not to say he hadn’t done other inappropriate… things.” I trailed off on the end when Agent Tench turned his dead eyes to me. Oh yeah, table manners. 

“Jesus Christ,” Agent Tench said, shaking his head and taking a swig of his whiskey. “Let’s show a little restraint in public, shall we?”

“With how much you’ve studied criminal psychology, I think you have a decent shot at becoming an FBI agent,” Agent Ford said, cutting up a chicken breast. He stabbed a piece and dunked into the BBQ sauce while he talked. “You should start the application process as soon as you can. It takes quite a while to go through the tests and interviews, maybe a year.”

I had a balloon of hope in my chest from Agent Ford telling me point blank I could become an FBI agent, but that balloon slowly shrank as I thought about the interview process. I took a bite of my burger to buy myself some time before answering. Several sesame seeds from the bun landed in my lap and I swiped them away. 

“I really appreciate that, Agent Ford,” I said. “I would love to start the application process now, but if they ask Chief Kelly or the other cops about me, they’d be less than complimentary.”

“But you also just completed a successful interview with two high ranking special agents,” Agent Tench said. “The FBI is more likely to take our opinion into account.”

“Do you think so?” I asked, my hope balloon refilling. “I had been planning to transfer to another police department first, hopefully in a bigger city to get more experience. Then after a couple of years, I would hopefully have enough credibility in order to impress the recruiter.”

“You could do that,” Agent Tench said. “But you don’t need to in order to get the job. The fact that you’re the first female police officer in this town says something about you.”

I saw Agent Ford push his plate away and then he leaned back in his chair. He’d left half a chicken breast on his plate uneaten, in criss-crossing smears of BBQ sauce. I caught a whiff of Ford’s cologne. It was warm and spicy. 

“Down here that’s seen as a bad thing,” I said, in reference to being a female cop.

“I’m surprised you haven’t made the papers,” Agent Ford said. “Places like Houston or Dallas would kill to write about your story. You might not be front page news, but they have lifestyle pages to fill. I’d bet they want a full body picture of you in your uniform.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I said, nervous about the idea of being in a big newspaper. “I would prefer to be seen as a hard worker, not an attention seeker.”

“But don’t you want little girls to understand they can be whatever they want to be?” Agent Tench said. He had finished most of his brisket, decimated his mashed potatoes, and shoved the last of his dinner role in his mouth. 

“Of course,” I said.

“If they don’t know about female cops, how are they going to know they can be one if they work hard?” Tench said with a shrug. 

I smirked at him and wagged my finger. 

“My, my, Agent Tench,” I said, with my thick Texas accent. “Are you trying to use those famous FBI negotiation tactics on me?”

“He does it to everyone,” Agent Ford said, swallowing the last of his drink. He did seem more relaxed.

“You do too,” I said, with a smile and a laugh. I supposed I was feeling my drink as well. Agent Tench didn’t seem drunk, just relaxed. He lit up a cigarette. 

“I’m serious, Millie. You should consider it,” Agent Tench said. “It might get picked up nationally. And the more people know your name, the more likely you are to get a new job. And if you’re serious about getting transferred to a different police department, Holden and I have been meeting cops all over the country. We could put in a good word.”

He tapped his cigarette onto a glass ashtray that he pulled closer to himself.. 

“I really appreciate you guys helping me out with this,” I said. 

“That reminds me,” Agent Ford said, turning to Tench. “I want to talk to Wendy about making the questionnaire smaller. We only have a short window of time to talk to these guys, and if we spend half an hour just trying to get them to talk, we need fewer, and more poignant questions.”

“There’s a questionnaire?” I asked. “Did you use it?”

“Not today,” Agent Ford said. 

“It’s more guidelines than anything,” Agent Tench said. He took a pull on his cigarette. “Particularly for newcomers. We’re trying to hire more agents to help with the workload. They’re going to start off with administrative work, like transcribing, before they get to the field, but we still need to create training material.”

The waiter came back and took our plates out of the way. He asked if we wanted dessert and we said no. All the while my brain was wheeling because Tench said his department was hiring. I had a very short day dream about transcribing interview tapes for the Behavioral Science Unit, and it was magical. But I didn’t think I could get to that point just yet.

“I’ll get the check,” the waiter said as he walked off.

“I think I need to call it a night,” Agent Ford said. “Do you want to split the check?”

Agent Ford was talking to Tench. I didn’t want them to feel like they had to pay for my meal too, but I also didn’t know how to broach the subject. You could really piss a guy off in Valdez for offering to pay the bill. 

“No, I got it,” Agent Tench said. He pulled out his wallet and started thumbing through the cash. 

“Thank you for going to dinner with me,” I said to them both. I tried not to think about how many people in here would gossip that I was eating dinner with two men in suits. Jack would put two and two together and be mad at me. But it had been worth it to get the career insights. 

“It’s been a pleasure,” Agent Ford said with a polite grin. I could tell he was itching to go. 

“I know you two are tired but I might go to a bar after this,” I said, even though I knew that at least Ford would say no. “My cousin is usually there this time of night. It’s not very far from your hotel either, just on the corner.”

“No, thank you,” Ford said. “I want to listen to the interview again before going to sleep.”

“I’ll go with you,” Agent Tench said with a shrug. I smiled at him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, to anyone that's reading this ┐(‘～` )┌
> 
> This chapter is Agent Tench and Officer Rita out for a drink after dinner, just the two of them... will romantics ensue?! Find out in today's episode of, "All the Way to the FBI!"
> 
> Yes, Agent Tench is married in this story, and Rita does have a boyfriend. You may like a fictional romantic dalliance from time to time, or you might not. 
> 
> Either way, I hope you have fun!

Chapter Six

My cousin, and roommate, had a favorite bar in town called Rusty’s. It was on the same block as the bed and breakfast that Agent Tench and Agent Ford were staying at. I had been planning to go there even before asking the agents to join me. I had not anticipated that Agent Tench would say yes. 

I pulled out of the restaurant’s parking lot, nervously humming and tapping on the steering wheel. The Osmonds came on the radio, and I turned it off to have some space to think. It was one thing to go to a crowded restaurant with two guys from work, and something completely different to go to a bar at 8:30 pm with just one man. 

Jack would kill me when he heard about it. My heart beat hard in my chest and I considered my options. If I drove home, I would avoid getting into any trouble with my boyfriend. But I really wanted to go to the bar, particularly with Agent Tench. 

Clearing my throat, I turned towards the bar instead of home, and gave my armpits a quick smell check. It wasn’t too bad but I intended to give myself more perfume spritzes before leaving my car.

When I pulled into the parking lot, I saw Cousin Ivy walking towards the bar. I gave a little honk to grab her attention before parking. Ivy was dressed in a jean jacket with a big Farrah Fawcett blowout and a white mini skirt. And you couldn’t miss her intricately stitched blue and white denim cowboy boots. Even with a 7 year old son at home, and at 32 years old, Cousin Ivy was one of the hottest girls in town. All the guys drooled over Ivy, even the teenagers. 

I got out of the car, squashing down my anxiety over making this decision, and walked over to Ivy, who watched me coming with a hand on her hip. 

“There you are,” Ivy said. She had a low and quiet voice. “How was dinner?”

I didn’t bother asking how she knew I was at dinner. Word spread fast. 

“Great,” I said. “And you’re about to see the extension of dinner into drinks.”

I looped my hand in Ivy’s elbow and we walked to the door. She was a little shorter than me, especially with my platform boots on. 

“I can’t wait to meet them,” Ivy said. “Are they single?”

“No,” I said. “And only one of the guys came to the bar. The other one said goodnight.”

“Are you going to take him home tonight?” Ivy said.

“No,” I said, laughing as if that were ridiculous. “He’s married. Besides, we’re just having a drink. He’s giving me very good advice for my career.”

“Suit yourself,” Ivy said. “Anyone is better than Jack.”

“That’s fair,” I said.

We got to the door and the bouncer put his hand out for the cover charge. 

I could hear Creedence Clearwater Revival playing inside Rusty’s. The neon sign above the door flickered and hummed. It was hard for me to concentrate because I was thinking about this drink with Agent Tench like a temptation. I wanted to be professional and treat him like a colleague but I also just wanted to be near him, like a moth to the flame. 

“Hey, Sam,” Ivy said to the bouncer in a low purr. “How is your song coming along?”

Sam put his hand down and smiled. He was sitting on a stool, with a red t-shirt and jeans hanging off of his skeletal frame. 

“You remember that manager I was talking to?” Sam said. He dove into the story, and Ivy ate it up. That was my que to run inside without having to pay the cover fee. 

As I crossed the threshold into the bar, adrenaline pumping through my veins, I glanced around quickly for Jack. He didn’t like this bar but that didn’t mean he wasn’t here with his buddies. While I craned my neck to look around I smelled a faint odor of stinky feet, and a swampy smell from humidity seeping into the old walls. 

I didn’t see Jack; however, I did see Agent Tench. He was sitting on a corner, where he could see most of the room, like the pool tables and the jukebox. The bartender put a tumbler with what I assumed was whiskey in front of Tench. 

With a deep breath, I walked towards him, freaking out internally. 

“There you are,” Tench said. He nodded to the bar stool across from him on the corner. “Bourbon and sweet tea?”

“Yes, please,” I said. 

It was the most comforting drink for me, and I needed comfort. I still found myself looking at everyone in the bar, in case Jack was going to pop up any moment. If I could just think of an excuse to explain what I was doing at a bar with a man, something that would sound professional and above board, then I could relax. Sadly, I only had selfish reasons to be here.

Tench craned his neck and waved the bartender over. It was Rusty’s son, Gil, who’d been bartending here since he came home from Korea. Gil nodded to say he’d be right over, and continued serving a couple guys at the other end of the bar. 

“So about these jobs opening up at your department…” I said, turning on Tench with a big smile. I rested my head in my hands and batted my eyelashes like bugs bunny in a dress. 

“Is that why you invited me out here?” Agent Tench said, with a good-natured tone. 

Even though I wasn’t great at telling jokes, I hoped Agent Tench got my weird sense of humor. 

“No, of course not,” I said, dropping the act. “I know that’s not how it works. But it’s definitely exciting that in the future I could work with you.”

“Really?” Agent Tench said with a grin. He looked tired. “You know that already after one day?”

“It’s not just today. I’ve been reading up on the BSU.” I said.

Gil came over to us, limping a little on his left leg.

“Can we get a bourbon sweet tea, please,” Tench said to Gil. Gil nodded once and got to pouring. They kept a pitcher of sweet tea in the fridge.

The bartop felt smooth under my fingers. It was worn down, and smelled faintly of sweat and liquor. While I absently tapped my fingers on the bar, I glanced around the place once more for Jack.

“Could I interest you?” Agent Tench said, pointing his pack of cigarettes at me. He hadn’t lit his yet.

“No, thank you,” I said. “I don’t smoke.”

He nodded and put it away. The bartender put my drink down in front of me and I stared down into it, clenching my jaw and worrying. Jack might not be here, but he had a lot of friends who would surely tell him where I was tonight. I was already in trouble just by sitting here.

“What’s got you so nervous?” Agent Tench said, he started to light his cigarette while he spoke.

“Me?” I said. I made a point of turning my attention to him. “It’s nothing. I keep thinking I see someone that I know.”

Agent Tench watched me silently while he took a drag. 

“Are you looking for your boyfriend?” Agent Tench said. 

“What?” I said, suddenly scared like Tench and Jack were in cahoots. That was my guilty conscious rearing up. I sighed and folded my hands on the bartop. “Sorry, yes. I just don’t think he’d like me having dinner and drinks with you. Not that this is a date, you see, I understand that. But Jack won’t get it.”

I choked on my words and went silent. I kept looking at Agent Tench, hoping he would brush it off and change the subject. As I studied his face, I noted that he looked like a sad bulldog, with his square jaw, high cheekbones, and droopy blue eyes. I liked his face, and looking at him made my heart flutter. 

“Are you afraid of him?” Agent Tench said. He didn’t break eye contact.

“Yes,” I said. “I mean, no, I’m not afraid of him. I just know he won’t be happy about it. But it’ll be fine, I know how to deal with him when he gets mad.”

I picked up my glass and held it up to Agent Tench, for a toast. When he raised his glass and clinked it on mine, I smiled and decided I didn’t care anymore about Jack. That punishment was inevitable, so I might as well enjoy the misbehaving.

“Cheers,” I said. 

“To new friends,” Tench said.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night with Bill Tench! 
> 
> In the last chapter, Millie is struggling with her anxiety that Jack was going to see her at the bar and get angry about her having a drink with another man. In this chapter, she's accepted that she's already out and might as well enjoy herself. And enjoy she does! 
> 
> Kind of, anyway. She's still got some inner demons to struggle with like wondering whether or not she should ask Agent Tench to come home with her for a night cap. It's wrong but it feels right. (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)

Chapter Seven

We both took a drink and I had a healthy gulp of mine. It burned going down, and I screwed up my face to ride it out. This drink was significantly stronger than the one Wanda gave me back at the restaurant. 

Tench had finished his drink, since he had a head start, and waved to Gil. He asked for another two fingers of Jack Daniels. 

“So, what do you do when you’re not working,” Agent Tench asked me. His voice was extra gruff, possibly from the whiskey. He stood up to take his jacket off. Underneath he was wearing a white, short sleeved shirt. I hadn’t noticed before, but his tie was green and looked silky. 

“Jogging and swimming, mostly,” I said. “There’s a track at the local high school. Oh, and golf! I love golf, but I don’t have many opportunities to play.”

“You like golf?” Agent Tench said as if he didn’t believe it. Gil refilled his glass with Jack Daniels, and Bill sat back down with his jacket on the bartop to take a swallow. 

“I love it,” I said. “I was training to be a professional golfer in high school. But I was more interested in becoming a cop.”

“You must be pretty good, then,” Tench said. “Wait, so, if this cop stuff doesn’t work out for you, your backup profession is a male-dominated sport, where the women who compete are forced to use the backdoor to get their trophy? You don’t like to take it easy, do you?”

“That’s not it,” I said. “I would love to have a job where I don’t have to fight to be there. It’s just that I want to do things that happen to be considered a man’s job for whatever arbitrary reason. Did you know Mary Queen of Scots is the one who invented golf as we know it?”

“Did she?” Tench said. “I did not know that.”

“I take it you play golf when you’re not working,” I said, taking a swig of my drink. It burned again and I had to clear my throat. 

“Usually when I’m on the road to try out different courses,” Tench said. He extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray. “When I’m home, we have neighbors over for a barbeque.”

“Oh really?” I said. “How did the brisket down here hold up to your standards?”

“I usually grill burgers and steaks. I’ll leave brisket to the professionals,” Tench said. 

“That sounds like a nice Saturday afternoon,” I said. “As opposed to interviewing killers.”

“It is,” Agent Tench said. “But you know, surprisingly, all my neighbors want to talk about is my work. My wife was worried that people would get uncomfortable hearing about murderers, but they want every grisly detail.”

“Ha!” I said. “I guess suburban families aren’t as wholesome as they want to be. But then again, if you’re not telling stories about killers, the conversation probably turns to boring local gossip, like some guy trying to get a tree removed off his property, but it’s half on his neighbor’s property, so they’re taking it to small claims court.”

“I’d love to hear about that,” Agent Tench said, with a grin. He finished his glass, and waved it at Gil for a refill. 

“I don’t think you would,” I said, laughing. 

Gil poured another two fingers of whiskey for Tench. I swallowed the last of my drink while he poured, and asked if I could have another as well. My head was feeling nice and warm. 

“So, Agent Tench,” I said. “What was the hardest interview you had to do?”

Gil plopped my refilled glass back down and I thanked him. A man in blue coveralls sat next to me, and ordered a beer. There were stained rags sticking out of his pockets and he smelled like motor oil.

“Call me Bill,” Agent Tench said. He raised his glass and we toasted again. I smiled in response, feeling tingly as I took a sip. 

“You want to know what the hardest interview was?” Bill said. His pale eyes met mine as if he were letting me in on a secret. “Honestly? It’s Jimmy Dresden.”

“Today?” I said, incredulously. “You seemed so calm throughout the whole thing. What made it so difficult?”

I was expecting him to talk about the Co-Ed Killer or the BullDogger. They had multiple gruesome kills under their belt. Jimmy only had two, and he hadn’t mentioned any of the gory details to us. 

“I don’t know,” Agent Tench said, spinning his drink in his fingertips. “Ford and I have been doing it just the two of us for a while now.” 

I held my breath when I realized he meant it was difficult because I had been there. That was the last thing I wanted to hear. My facial expression was probably like a deer in the headlights. 

“We’re used to getting the brunt of these killer’s twisted psyche,” Agent Tench said. “We even egg them on, if it will get them to talk. I mean, they get under my skin sometimes, but I manage to brush it off.” 

Bill stopped spinning his drink in his hands and looking down into it. 

“But today… When Jimmy tried that shit on you, talking about how beautiful you were as a kid… I saw the look in his eyes, like he was getting off on scaring you… Anyway, I wanted to punch his fucking lights out.”

I watched Bill carefully as he spoke, feeling like we were back in the Fremont Penitentiary with Jimmy. I must have been getting pretty drunk, because I liked thinking that Agent Tench wanted to protect me from the big bad man. I held onto that happy, warm feeling in my heart like a little secret. 

“It sounds like I was a distraction,” I said. 

Bill glanced up from his drink and looked straight in my eyes. I stared back, wishing we were somewhere more intimate. Rusty’s was dark, hot, and noisy with all the liquored-up bodies around, raucous laughter, and clanking pool balls. I wanted it to just be us two. 

“You didn’t distract Agent Ford,” Bill said, emphasizing his partner’s name. So, I was a distraction for Bill? I smiled to myself, wondering how much of a distraction.

Bill took a healthy swallow from his glass. “That really didn’t freak you out with Jimmy back there?”

“Yeah, of course, I was freaked out,” I said, as if it were obvious. “But he made it all up. There’s no way he could recognize me and remember my name. And just because he wants to play mind games, doesn’t mean I have to let him.”

It was getting hotter than a $2 pistol in Rusty’s. I pulled apart the bow at my neck, which served as the collar of my blouse, and I flapped my shirt a few times, trying to invite air onto my chest. 

“No, you don’t,” Bill said with a nod of his head. He seemed a little drunk. “Don’t get me wrong, I want to punch half of the jackasses we interview. And they deserve it, after the shit they’ve done.”

“Probably,” I said, with a shrug. I glanced down, feeling a little exposed, and realized that with the collar untied, the blouse fell open to show my tank top underneath, along with a dose of cleavage. I didn’t bother fixing it. “I don’t know how it is. Jimmy is the first criminal I’ve ever gotten to talk to.”

“You’re going to be fine,” Bill said. “Just don’t bat your eyes too much. They might fall in love.”

“Is that what you think I was doing to Jimmy?” I said. 

“I think you were talking to him,” Agent Tench said. “And he took that to mean you were interested in him. So, whether you knew it or not, you were batting your eyes at him.”

“That’s not fair,” I said. “That’s just talking. What am I supposed to do, use hand signals?”

I took down the last of my second drink, feeling very warm and tingly now. The noisy din of the room melted away and so did the bad odors. 

“That wouldn’t cover your radiance, as Jimmy called it,” Agent Tench said. He reached over and gently tugged at the string from my blouse, referencing how it was open and exposing me. I shrugged and spun away from him till the string was out of his fingers, smiling coyle at him over my shoulder. 

“It’s just skin,” I said. 

My tank top was really not that revealing. I had less skin showing than 20% of the other women at Rusty’s. So, it wasn’t a big deal, but I played along because I liked Tench teasing me. 

“I see that,” Agent Tench said with a raise of his eyebrows. He took his last swig, and looked at his watch. “I better call it a night. We’re flying home tomorrow morning. How are you getting home?”

“I’ll walk,” I said. “It’s not far.”

“No, you can’t walk by yourself,” Agent Tench said. 

Bill stood up, slightly wobbly from his drinks, and pulled out his wallet. As he waved Gil over, he thumbed through his bills. I pulled out my wallet too, and laid out six bucks, for my drinks plus tip.

“No, no, no,” Bill said. “Your money's no good here.”

“What’s done is done,” I said. I slid off the stool to stand up, and my platform boot went sideways. I put my hand on the bar and Agent Tench put a steadying hand against my back till I got my footing.

“Cheap date,” Bill said out of the corner of his mouth. He paid Gil and ushered me out of the bar. Date, huh? It sure was starting to feel like one.

“Are there any cabs?” Bill said once we got outside. 

It was still warm and sticky in the night air, but it was better than the stuffy bar. There were some stars peeking out between the dark clouds, and I caught a glimpse of the crescent moon overhead. Mosquitoes floated, buzzing around us. I slapped one off my neck and decided it was time to tie my blouse back up. 

“No, we don’t have a lot of cabs,” I said. I managed a sloppy bow on my collar and let it be. “It’s okay, I walk home from Rusty’s every week. It really isn’t very far.”

“Let me walk you home,” Bill said. “I want to.”

“Okay,” I said with a smile. I turned around and started heading down the sidewalk to get home. I heard Bill walking up behind me, his shoes clicked on the pavement, whereas mine clunked. 

I felt a little breeze go up my denim skirt, and it was heavenly on my inner thighs. 

“Didn’t you mention your cousin?” Bill said. He walked just a step behind me so I could see him out of the corner of my eye. 

“Yes, she was here too, doing her own thing,” I said. “You have a good memory, Agent Tench.”

I accidentally weaved left then over-corrected and weaved right into Agent Tench. He put a hand around my waist to steady me. In response, I felt giddy and a little embarrassed that I couldn’t walk straight. 

“Whoa,” he said, “easy there, high-flyer.”

I giggled some more at that comment as we walked. It took a few moments before he released me, then Bill took out another cigarette. He was down to one left in the pack.

“I appreciate you walking me home,” I said. “I’m going to be sad to see you leave tomorrow. It was so nice to have you guys around, you know? I felt like I was a real cop.”

“You are a cop,” Bill said, trying to light his cigarette. He fumbled with the lighter. “You gotta get out of this town. The chief is just counting the days till you give up and get out of his hair. In fact, there’s something I want to tell you about your boyfriend.”

“Jack?” I said, looking at him sideways. 

“Yeah,” Bill said. 

In my boots, I was just an inch or two shorter than him, close enough to see details on his face even when my vision was a little blurry. 

Maybe he would say I should leave Jack, and Jack didn’t deserve me. Maybe he would say he wanted to punch Jack for me like he wanted to punch Jimmy. Or, maybe he wanted to ask if I was willing to cheat on Jack. My heart raced in my chest and I had a hard time deciding if I was afraid or excited. 

“I overheard Jack and the chief talking about you,” Bill said. He glanced over at me for emphasis. “The chief asked Jack when he was going to marry you so you would stay home. Only he used much more colorful language.”

“What?” I said, nearly shouting at Bill. “Well, what did Jack say?”

“He laughed and said he was working on it,” Bill said, matter-of-factly.

We reached an intersection where the lights were flashing uselessly, since no one was driving through. Instead of crossing the street, Bill stopped to look at me, so I stopped too. His pupils were dilated from the whiskey. I hoped he couldn’t see me too well, because I felt like I was going to start crying. The chief still had no respect for me. 

“Millie, honey,” Bill said, impassioned. “You have to leave. Just tell me where you want to go, and I’ll see if I have a contact at the police department. Call the papers in Houston tomorrow to get your name out there, see if that triggers any job offers. You have to do something. I’d hate to see you dragged down.”

“I want to get out,” I said, staring at the ground and shaking my head. I crossed my arms and tried to hide behind them. 

“Why did you say that you were afraid of Jack,” Bill said. He took a step closer to me and put his hand on my shoulder. “Did he hit you?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” I said, and looked up into Bill’s face. “He gets angry sometimes and breaks things. He doesn’t hit me though.” 

“Well, maybe he hasn’t hit you yet,” Agent Tench said, taking a pull. “But that doesn’t mean you have to put up with him. You’d be better off without a guy who’s trying to get you pregnant to sabotage your job.” 

“No, I know that,” I said, assuring Bill. “Believe me, I want to leave him. But he got me this job because he wanted to date me. If I break up with him now I lose the job that same minute. I have to stick with him, you know. At least until I can get a better job.”

I took a shaky breath and calmed down. My eyes dried up and I laughed a little at myself. 

“I still think you should leave him,” Bill said, taking his hand off my shoulder. 

He started walking again, and we crossed the street together. A few of the houses we passed had lights on, shining through the windows. I heard the television playing from inside, but I couldn’t tell what it was saying. They were all one story, most of them were plantation or ranch style. Some were maintained better than others. As we walked, I kept my arms crossed and held on like I needed a jacket, but I definitely wasn’t cold. 

“As soon as possible,” I said. “Thanks for your concern, Bill. I really do appreciate it.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, I’d hate to see you lose your fire,” Tench replied. 

We continued to walk, slowly, past the houses and parked cars. I could smell one of my neighbors, the Hendersons, dinner cooking. I could also smell the grass on their lawn, and hear the bugs humming like a chorus. 

The door to Henderson’s shack was open with a torn screen door between Bobby Henderson and the world, sitting in his shorts with a beer. He was watching Happy Days and I smiled, thinking about how Agent Tench had teased me at dinner about my dates with Jack. 

I wished I could use the silence to ask Agent Tench if he wanted to come inside with me when I got to my house. I didn’t know if I’d ever see him again, and I didn’t want the night to end yet. My heart ached to think that Agent Tench would go home to his wife and son, and probably forget about me. 

It was absolutely the right thing to happen, and I didn’t want to come between a marriage. However, if Agent Tench wasn’t married, I would have tried to kiss him already. How funny that just today I had told myself I wasn’t a cheater, and yet all it took was a pair of sad puppy blue eyes to change my mind.

“I’m just ahead,” I said gesturing to the baby blue duplex coming up. Ivy and I lived on the right hand side. 

Agent Tench and I turned up the walkway to my front door. The garage was in the middle of the two sides, and the outer wall ran alongside the walkway. I got to the door, still feeling a little buzzed, and stuck my hand in my purse to get the keys out. While I fished around, feeling for something metal, I half turned to face Agent Tench. He was casually smoking and when he caught my eye, he grinned. 

“Nice place,” Bill said. 

“Thanks,” I said, “My cousin Ivy owns it. She had it fixed up.” 

I gave up the blind search and pulled my purse up to see where those damn keys were hiding. It was too awkward to just keep standing here and swaying drunkenly, while I held back from asking Bill to come inside for a night cap.

“Here’s the keys.”

I snatched up the keyring, and yanked them out of the rubble of my purse ecosystem. Unfortunately, in the struggle, the keys escaped and fell onto the welcome mat by my feet. I groaned and cursed, but I also laughed at my own bad luck. 

“I’ll get them,” Tench said. He saw that I was trying to bend over without much success. 

I leaned against the front door. My head was spinning, and I tried to hold it in place with my hand. As I peered out to see Bill, his face swam in and out of focus. I tried to smile at him to show him I was okay. 

“Hold this,” Bill said. He stumbled a bit, and leaned against the wall next to me. He carefully tried to put his cigarette in my mouth, smiling at me. I laughed and shook my head. “Just hold it, don’t inhale.”

Laughing, I nodded and tried to take the cigarette from him with my lips. Once it was secure, I crossed my arms and gave a quick nod like I Dream of Genie. Bill chuckled.

“Okay, getting the keys,” Bill said.

I watched Bill’s head disappear as he bent down. As he grabbed the keys, he put his hand on my calf. It seemed like he was trying to steady himself, but it was a gentle touch. I felt tingles shoot through my body like lightning. 

Trying to distract myself, I took a pull off of Tench’s cigarette. He stood up, hand on the wall, and held up my keys for me. I took the cigarette out of my mouth and blew a cloud of smoke overhead. Then, I immediately fell into a nasty coughing fit. For a moment, it didn’t matter how much I coughed, I still couldn’t get a decent breath. Agent Tench rubbed and thumped on my back, but I could also hear him laughing. 

“Rookie,” Agent Tench said. 

“I wanted to see what it was like,” I said, still bent over with my hand on the top of my thigh. In the meantime, I held up the cigarette for Tench and he took it with a chuckle. 

Bill kept rubbing my back, even when I stood up straight. He took a drag from the cigarette I had sampled myself, and stared at me. My head was swimming worse now from coughing and I gazed at him, dizzily, wanting to kiss him. Tench was only half a foot away, and it would be so easy just to lean forward.

I couldn’t tell if he was thinking the same thing or not, but he was staring at me. Tench dropped his cigarette on the pavement and stepped on it. That was my queue to smarten up and go home: alone. It wasn’t too late to let him leave. 

I didn’t care about cheating on Jack. That was a relationship that had already ended, except I hadn’t told him that part yet. I did feel bad for Bill’s marriage and family. They deserved a chance to be happy together. 

“Thank you for grabbing my keys,” I said. I pushed hair out of my eyes and gave Bill a little half grin, trying to put on a brave face. 

I turned away from him and took a step towards the front door. When I managed to get the key maneuvered into the lock, I bit my lip to keep from talking to Bill. I got the door unlocked and pulled it open. 

“Millie-” Tench said. He interrupted himself by grabbing my wrist. I turned back to look into Bill’s eyes, needing to know what he wanted from me. Bill’s eyes were pulled tight, and he gave a head shake as if disagreeing with himself. “Please.” 

That was enough to break down my moral code. I leaned forward and kissed him. Bill’s fingers caressed my cheek and moved to the back of my neck to hold me closer while we kissed. 

It felt like nothing I’d experienced in a first kiss before. Fireworks went off behind my eyes and tingles shot down through my stomach then back up my spine. I curled into him, and Bill encircled me with his arms. I could taste the tobacco on his breath, which wasn’t wholly unpleasant, and I felt his five o’clock shadow rubbing against my lip and cheek. 

Bill’s tongue flicked into my mouth and then he pulled back, as if waking up. Our lips parted and I heard Bill swallow. I kept my eyes firmly shut, burning this moment into my memory. I felt so happy and so guilty all at the same time. 

But it wasn’t sustainable. Bill’s nose brushed against my cheek, and he put his forehead against mine. 

“I’m sorry,” Bill said. I felt the heat from his breath on my skin, and the smell of his tobacco filled my nose. It was intoxicating, and it hurt to know that it was already over. 

“Please don’t be,” I said. I pulled away from him and Bill’s hands slid off of me. He breathed heavily and his eyes looked like a kicked puppy. I didn’t know what he was sorry about, specifically, and I didn’t care to know. It was best to just stop here. 

“Take care of yourself, Bill.”

“Millie,” Bill muttered, shaking his head. 

I stepped inside my house and peered out the doorway at him, standing on my welcome mat. 

“Good night,” I said. I tried to smile but it broke halfway. 

“Good night,” Bill said. His mouth twitched and his eyes hardened. 

I shut the door and stood against it with my eyes closed, clenching my teeth and trying to convince myself to go to my room- alone. I listened hard to try and guess what Tench was doing. At first, I heard nothing. Then, I thought I heard the clicking of his lighter. That seemed likely, I thought, with a little smile to myself. Bill smoked too much.

His shoes clicked on the pavement, fading away as he left. 

“Fuck,” I said, putting my back against the door, and buried my face in my hands. 

By the time Ivy’s dog, Magnolia, or Maggie, realized I was home, I was washing my makeup off and sniffling to myself. The old cattle dog shuffled into my room, and sniffed my hand. She gave me a quick lick then went back to her favorite spot on our kitchen rug. I wondered if I had invited Agent Tench inside, and assuming he had said yes, would Maggie have barked at him? I didn’t even know if he had a dog. 

But those kinds of questions hurt too much. It was over, and it was highly unlikely that I’d ever see him again. I crawled into bed, held a pillow to my chest and let myself cry loudly. If I could just have one night to mourn, and make myself forget about him, I hoped that by the time Jack confronted me about my drink with Bill, I could use a poker face to get through it. 

What a fucking mess.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus in between chapters. I had lots of time in quarantine to sit around and watch MindHunter which is why I started writing this thing, since we had been displaced due to a plumbing issue in March, and lived in a friend's spare room. So, you know, times were weird.
> 
> Now I'm home again and I don't have as much time to write. Sorry! Life is picking back up again.
> 
> This is a short chapter between Cousin Ivy and our girl Millie. I didn't feel like having another angry scene between Jack and Millie but there will be major repercussions for Millie's date with Bill. It's going to be a bit of a question in our minds how bad the argument will get with Jack, as I believe in my next chapter we're jumping forward about 6 months. 
> 
> Thanks guys! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

Chapter Eight

“Can we go home already?” Cliff asked. 

“What do you think,” Cousin Ivy said with a lofty sarcasm. 

Cliff threw his head back and groaned, rolling his green eyes. He had sparkling highlights in his dirty blond hair that swished around his face when he moved, and Cliff never stopped moving. Despite his disappointment, he didn’t keep arguing, and ran off to find mischief. 

I hear ya, kid, I thought as I pushed the shopping cart down the aisle. Actually, I was just unhappy in general, since my date with Agent Tench. I’d made a fool of myself. 

“This has to be better than Hostess, right?” Ivy asked. I looked over to see what she was talking about. She was reading the back of a box of angel food cake mix. 

Simple background music played overhead, barely discernible over the noise of squeaky carts and people talking. The store smelled like perfume from passersbys, and an amalgamation of food scents mixed so much that it was hard to distinguish what food I was smelling. 

“It takes more time,” I pointed out. 

“Oh, really,” Ivy said. She put it back and we continued walking. Her pale blonde hair was styled meticulously and barely moved as she walked. “You make it sound like all I have time for is pouring cereal.”

“And opening Ding Dongs,” I said. I was teasing her, but I couldn’t muster a smile. 

Cliff and his friend from school ran past us, hollering and brandishing large tongs at each other. They looked like little grimy goblins, with dirt on their shoes and hair sticking out at odd angles. Ivy got out of their way, with a wide eyed look on her face, and then continued walking down the aisle as if that hadn’t been her child. 

“So, is Jack still mad at you?” Ivy asked. She grabbed a bag of flour and dropped it into the cart. An older lady still in her Sunday best walked by and gave us a terse nod. Ivy and I didn’t go to church, and Valdez was sufficiently aware of that fact, particularly because Ivy was a single mom and I had a man’s job. 

“He’s furious,” I said. “I don’t want to go to work tomorrow.”

“Hmm.” Ivy said. “He’ll get over it eventually.” 

“Maybe, but it was just on Friday night so I’m sure he’s still mad,” I said. It was now Sunday night. 

“If he’s mad enough he might get you fired,” Ivy said.

“Lord above,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I hope not. That would look terrible on my resume.”

“Just call the FBI guy,” Ivy said. “Ask him to hire you.” 

We got to the freezer section and Ivy reached down into the icebox to grab chicken breasts. She plopped them into the cart next to the canned corn, milk, flour, eggs, and bread. It felt good over here, with the cool air wafting out of the freezers. There were fans in the store but it wasn’t enough. 

“I can’t,” I said. “I don’t have his number and he can’t hire me.” This part I said in a hushed voice, hoping she’d get the hint. My cousin didn’t gossip and spread rumors about people, but she also said things in public that I wished she wouldn’t. In Ivy’s opinion she was very good at only saying things that wouldn’t give any juicy tidbits. I disagreed. 

“I’m sure the FBI has a phone number in the yellow pages,” Ivy said. 

Cliff ran up to us, with three boys trailing behind him now. They all but skidded to a stop on the white and blue checkered linoleum floor. He had discarded his grilling tongs and instead presented his mom with a pack of chocolate chip cookies. 

“Mom, mom! Can I get these?” Cliff yelled in excitement. All of the boys looked up at Ivy, eyes glittering with hope as if Cliff’s success would fulfill them too. 

“Well,” Ivy said, bending down to talk to them. “Those cookies do look very tasty. But remember we were going to get a candy bar if you were good at the store today. Do you think you’ve been good?”

“Yes!” Cliff said. “I haven’t knocked anything off the shelves, and I didn’t kick anybody.” 

“Compelling argument,” I said.

“Okay,” Ivy said. “That’s pretty good. You just have to keep it up till we get to the checkout counter, then you can decide if you want cookies or candy.”

“CANDY!” Cliff said, running off the way he came, holding the cookies over his head like a battle axe. The boys followed suit, and the group ended up charging down the aisle like the cavalry. 

“Loud boys don’t get candy,” Ivy said. She didn’t yell, but the boys somehow heard her and decided to cool their jets. 

“That’s how you’re going to get Jack to calm down,” Ivy said, pointing at me. “You tell him you have a special surprise for him as an apology. He might be mad, but he won’t be able to resist wondering what you got in mind.”

I didn’t want to do anything nice for Jack. In fact, I was starting to wonder how bad it would be to get fired. If I got fired, I wouldn’t have to date him anymore. But Ivy was right, I needed to fix the mess I made rather than give up.

“What’s the surprise?” I asked. A few kinky scenarios ran through my mind, like wearing fancy lingerie, or offering him a blow job. Both made me feel gross when connected with Jack. 

“Sex,” Ivy said, with a matter-of-fact shrug. 

“Well, that’s not new,” I said. But I also felt much better that I didn’t have to go buy lingerie. I turned the cart around and we headed towards produce. I could smell the ripe, fresh strawberries displayed prominently, mixed in with some not so fresh scents, possibly from the lettuce. 

“Get on top,” Ivy said. “It’ll spice things up a little.”

“Ugh,” I groaned. “I guess.”

Ivy made a snort to laugh at me. I know, I know, I thought. I shouldn’t be dating someone that disgusted me. But it was all a means to an end. I just had to make it till I got a better job. 

We approached the fruit and Ivy picked out a few shiny Mcintosh Red apples. Meanwhile, the cavalry of seven year old boys came thundering past, and ended up crashing into a display case. Lumpy brown potatoes came tumbling over the side and bounced across the floor. I froze, watching in horror but also thinking it was funny. 

A store clerk ran over to the crash site and started yelling at the boys. He grabbed Cliff by the arm to stop him from running away, and shouted about rotten kids. Cliff screamed in the clerk’s face and kicked him hard in the shin. Good god almighty! I covered my mouth so no one would see me laugh.

As the clerk hobbled around on one foot, cursing and groaning, Ivy shook her head. 

“No candy bar today,” Ivy said. 

“He’s good at saving you money,” I pointed out. Watching the chaos was a nice distraction from my own problems.

But my problems were still there and anxiety about going to work tomorrow cropped up again on our way home. On Saturday, Jack called me to say that he heard all about my date with the FBI sons of bitches, and that he needed to talk to me. I’d told him I was on my lady times and he could talk to me at work on Monday. 

See, Jack was a wimp when it came to things he considered filthy, like menstruation. It was a good way to divert him if I needed to. 

Unwittingly, I went over my arguments in my head, perfecting what I would say to him. I’d had this conversation in my head with Jack so many times during the weekend, running through the scenarios over and over. Part of me wanted to get it done with, but mostly I just wanted to stay home. 

It was going to get ugly, that I was sure of, but I didn’t know how ugly yet. In my heart, I was afraid that Jack would hit me, like Bill said. Then what? Was it worth putting up with Jack’s bullshit?

Dammit, Jack, I thought. Why did he have to make everything so difficult?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to a new chapter!
> 
> I was wrong last time when I said that I was going to jump six months. This is about three weeks after the end of the last chapter. 
> 
> Millie gets a call from Bill, and then we get to hear a little of what happened between her and Jack. Warning, there are mentions of abuse. And on that note...
> 
> The story is going to get more violent from here on in, with mentions of abuse and graphic descriptions of fictional crime scenes, and sexual content. 
> 
> But not this chapter. This chapter is only hinting at it, and then Millie gets a spoon in her hair. It's fun, you'll like it. :)
> 
> -Paige

Chapter Nine

I sat on the floor in front of my mirror and carefully wrapped my hair up in a pink roller. I was halfway done, meaning I had about eight rollers on my head. Once finished with that, then it was time to put on my night cream and go to bed to read. I had a hard time most nights falling asleep. Instead of sleeping I’d started reading a book dictated from a man on death row, describing all the bad things he’d done in his life. And he’d done a lot of bad things, including but not limited to locking his brother in a barn and burning it down when he was eleven.

Last night I’d read till four o’clock, and even though I was tired, I anticipated another late night of reading. It was a fascinating book, and it was much more interesting than typing up handwritten reports like the chief had me doing everyday at work. The boys had started writing sloppy on purpose just to laugh while I tried to read what they’d written. 

I finished up a roller and clipped it in place. As I reached for the next one, I heard Ivy answer the phone. A moment later she popped her head in my room.

“The phone’s for you,” Ivy said. “He sounds handsome.”

“Huh?” I asked, staring at her. Ivy knew everyone that would call me, and she wouldn’t think them handsome- especially not Jack.

“Well, go take your call,” Ivy said, waving at me to stand up. 

I was in a bathrobe with a flimsy slip on underneath. I tied up the robe and followed her out into the living room. Ivy went back into the kitchen to watch and occasionally stir a pot of chicken and dumplings. 

Feeling a little nervous, I clutched the front of my robe together and sat down at the bar counter in front of our pink plastic phone. I picked up the receiver and put it against my ear, wondering if it was Chief Kelly. Without thinking about it, I wrapped my finger in the phone cord.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Millie?” came the caller. It was Bill Tench. He sounded like he’d had a few drinks, and he was calling me from a bar, based on the background noise. 

“Bill? Is that you?” I said. My heart fluttered in my chest. “I didn’t know you had my phone number.”

“Yeah, well, I looked up your file,” Bill said. He didn’t seem proud of that fact. “I wanted to be the one to tell you the good news.”

“Really?” I said. My heart fluttered. “What’s the good news?”

“I called the Houston Chronicle today. I have a buddy in the Houston field office who put me in touch with the editor. They said they are very interested in doing an article about you.”

“You talked to them about me?” I asked. 

This felt like a dream. I had made myself believe Agent Tench would never want to think about me or talk to me again after I kissed him. Clearly that was not the case. 

“Well, I told them you are the only female cop of Valdez,” Tench said. “They said you should call them tomorrow at seven o’clock.”

I gaped into the phone for a moment, and then realized he couldn’t see me. 

“Thank you,” I said, stuttering. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”

“I wanted to,” he said, as if realizing it was true. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, just fine,” I said, in an automatic southern accent, as one does in polite conversation where you do not tell people how you really feel. “How are you? How’s work going?”

I didn’t want to keep him at arm’s length, but I felt like we were having two conversations: things we could say out loud, and things we-or maybe just I-wanted to say out loud. It was difficult to navigate. What I really wanted to ask was about his wife and if he wanted to come see me again. 

“We’re swamped at work,” Bill said, “Holden and I are assigned to a big case down south, and meanwhile I’m trying to hire an entire team of people to fill out my department. So I’m constantly flying back and forth, from one big mess to another. It’s been rough.”

I could hear him blowing out air, which was what I assumed to be smoke. I could hear chatter in the background mixed with an indiscernible song from the jukebox, and then a woman laughed loudly, drowning everything else out for a moment. The sounds moved and muted as Tench might have turned away from the crowd. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, softening. 

Cousin Ivy turned to look at me with her brows pinched, confused by the change in tone. She was of course listening carefully, and probably heard me say his name. I waved her attention away from me and she shrugged and went back to stirring the chicken and dumplings on the stove. The chicken broth smelled amazing.

“Yeah,” Tench said, as if that weren’t the half of it. He took a drink of something with ice in it. “How is it with Jack?”

I had to stop myself from saying, fine, knowing that it wasn’t true. I looked down at the round, woven placemat underneath my elbow, and rubbed my finger across a frayed end poking out a little. The mat was pink, with green palm fronds overlapping across the middle.

“Um, well, it’s been something of a challenge,” I said, trying to phrase it without it sounding completely terrible. Which of course it was, but I wasn’t ready to make it a big deal in case anyone, like Bill or Ivy, wanted to call the cops. “He wasn’t happy when he heard about you and me at the bar.”

Ivy glanced at me with sad, knowing eyes, in reference to Jack. Yeah, them’s the breaks right. Jack would be upset if he knew Bill had called me, so of course I couldn’t tell anyone. I was okay with Ivy knowing, because unlike everyone else in Valdez, Ivy wasn’t going to talk behind my back. We kept each other’s secrets.

“Oh,” Bill said. He hesitated and cleared his throat like there was something he didn’t know how to say. “I’m sorry about that. How much did he know?”

“He only knew about the bar,” I said. Ivy had been the only person I told about kissing Bill at my front door. Luckily, although I waited for the story to still crop up in local gossip, it seemed like no one had seen us. 

I wanted to apologize to Bill for kissing him, and then ask him if he had told his wife about it. But the words were thick in my throat and refused to come out. I was too embarrassed and guilty to say it out loud.

“Just the bar, huh...” Agent Tench said, trailing off. He was definitely drunk, or getting there soon. “And what did ole Jackie boy have to say?”

“Well, you can imagine, ” I said, picking at the frayed end on the placemat. “He called me a liar and a whore. It was scary... I’ve never seen him that mad, you know?”

“He hurt you?” Bill said, grimly. It was more of a statement than a question. 

“Yes,” I said, clenching my fist and swallowing hard a few times. I closed my eyes and tried to ride out the anxiety from that memory. Jack had hit me with the back of his hand across the face. It hurt, but that wasn’t what scared me. 

What scared me was the expression on Jack’s face when he hit me. It was emotionless, like he could have killed me in that moment and wouldn’t have cared.

“He did,” Bill said through gritted teeth. “I’ll kill the little motherfucker.”

I heard a smash from Bill’s end, like shattered glass. 

“Did you just drop your drink?” I asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” Bill said, flatly, with a hint of self-depreciation. “Hey, I gotta go. I’m sorry, Millie.”

I heard a click and the line went dead. 

“Oh,” I said. Then I hung up, confused and hurt. I just bared my soul to him and he hangs up on me? I should have lied to him and said everything was fine. That was clearly what he wanted to hear. 

“Maybe he cut himself on the glass,” Ivy said, trying to give Bill the benefit of the doubt. 

“Maybe,” I said. He had sounded pretty drunk. “He probably won’t even remember our conversation.”

“I’m sure he’ll remember at least talking to you since he got you that interview with the Houston Chronicle.” 

“Oh my god,” I said, putting my hands on my face. “I forgot that part… I can’t believe he did that for me.”

“I bet he really likes you,” Ivy said, and wagged her eyebrow at me. “And I bet he feels guilty for getting you in trouble with Jack.”

“It’s not his fault,” I said, rewrapping my robe tighter. “I knew what would happen if I walked in that bar.”

“Honestly, you should have told Jack a long time ago that you don’t want to be with him anymore,” Ivy said. All traces of humor had dropped from her tone. “But that doesn’t mean it’s your fault that Jack hit you.” 

“I mean, I thought he might hit me,” I said. “I didn’t know for sure.”

“It’s not your fault that Jack hit you,” Ivy said, softly but seriously. She turned to stare at me to make sure I got the point.

“I’m sorry, Ivy,” I said. I stood up and ambled into the kitchen to hug her. Her daddy, my uncle, used to abuse their family before he died of a heartattack. Then, her boy’s dad, Owen, turned out to be cut from the same cloth as her daddy. She’d kicked Owen to the curb long ago.

“You need to be worrying about yourself,” Ivy said, patting my back.

Then, while hugging me, Ivy accidentally put her spoon on my hair. It felt sticky with broth and I pulled away with a tiny shriek. 

“I’m so sorry,” Ivy said. She reached out to check my hair and assess the damage. “Oh dear.” Ivy said, this time laughing. 

“No! Don’t say that,” I said, laughing but shaking my head. “How bad is it?”

Ivy continued pulling through the strands and then gasped. That gasp turned into a sputtering burst of laughter and Ivy had to support herself on the counter as she cracked up. 

“No, no, no!” I said, running to the bathroom to see for myself. I was laughing too. I couldn’t help it. Behind me I heard Ivy trying to apologize in-between gulps of air, punctuated by laughs. 

I pulled the wavy strands of my hair, whatever hadn’t already gotten into a hair roller, and found it sticking to each other with slimy broth.

“Oh, sweet lord!” I exclaimed, laughing and pretending to sob. 

It had smeared onto several of the rollers as well, and I knew there was no saving it in time for work tomorrow. I would just have to wear my hair in a scarf. Oh well, I thought. Who’s there for me to impress?

Our laughter and antics woke up Cliff, who wanted to join in on the fun. Because Ivy was going to be up finishing the dumplings, and I wasn’t ready to go to sleep, we turned on the TV and Cliff ate popcorn. I sat on the floor by the coffee table, using a rag in a bowl of water to clean my hair. Ivy watched from the kitchen while stirring. Mork and Mindy was on, and halfway through, Cliff started running up to me and Ivy imitating Mork. 

What a clown, I thought, laughing at his antics. I was glad Bill called and that Ivy got my hair dirty. This was better than sitting alone in bed reading about a killer and thinking about my scary boyfriend.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So you may have noticed some major changes made as of this afternoon - unless you're reading this in the future in which case just skip ahead to the chapter, you're good to go. ヾ(*'▽'*)
> 
> For the rest of you, if anyone is confused, this might help:
> 
> 1\. RITA is now MILLIE  
> I felt the urge to change the character's first name. For some reason, the character I had in my head didn't sync up with the name Rita, and it was bothering me. Don't worry, I don't plan on going on a rampage of name changes. I know that's pretty jarring after 80+ pages ... (⊙_⊙)
> 
> 2\. Other changes have been super minor, mostly rewording phrases to be easier to read, or adding in more description paragraphs. I know I get very dialogue heavy and can totally forget to take a step back and set the stage. I'm working on it!
> 
> Okay, I think that's it. I would like to welcome you to the chapter that introduces a murder in Valdez County. 
> 
> Thanks for your interest!  
> -Paige

Chapter Ten

I opened my eyes just a bit to peer around the room, looking for Jack. If he was still asleep, I wanted to sneak out and go home to clean up before work. Unfortunately, his side of the bed was empty, and I heard the toilet flush. Damn, he was already awake. That meant I had to talk to him. 

I held very still, hoping to delay the inevitable as long as possible. My sleepovers at Jack’s house were rare, and miserable. I did it to shut him up and to still keep up some semblance of wanting to be his girlfriend. I scowled, unable to stop myself, and covered my face with my hands - using as little movement as possible. My head hurt like hell.

I could smell a hint of bleach in the air, as was usually the case in Jack’s house, because he cleaned a lot. The faucet turned on and off and I heard Jack brushing his teeth. 

“Hey Millie,” Jack called from the bathroom. His words were muffled from the toothbrush. “Can you make coffee and toast for me?”

“Yes,” I said, mostly because I wanted coffee too. I needed a kick to the brain to help me wake up. I rolled out of bed and snatched my t-shirt off the ground from last night. I put on the shirt, didn’t bother with my pants, and walked into Jack’s kitchen in my underwear.

“You’re the best, sugar pop,” Jack called out.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. 

I opened the refrigerator to get out the butter. The bread was on top of the fridge in a bag, and I pulled out a few for me and Jack. He didn’t have a toaster so I got the pan out and turned on his stove.

Jack owned his own house, which was not far from the police station. It was a three bedroom, one bathroom, ranch style house with a covered front porch and a large kitchen and living room. The place was barely furnished, with only one piece of art on the wall: a painting of a ballerina with her leg straight up in the air. He said it was his grandmother’s. 

He kept the place spotless, which was surprising because he had his friends over a lot to watch football. They would eat messy food like pizza, hot dogs, chips, or popcorn, all while getting drunk. He let them eat the food on his couch, but Jack would get righteously pissed off if anyone spilled something.

I thought that was weird for a bachelor, and it didn’t actually make his house nicer, it made it more uncomfortable, like a hospital waiting room. Especially with the sparse and impersonal furniture. 

As I measured out coffee grounds into Jack’s coffee maker, I wondered if I was so miserable because of a hangover. Jack had bought me wine to go with the chicken a la king I had made for dinner last night.

He said the wine was to celebrate the Houston Chronicle article due to arrive by Sunday. Jack had insisted on driving me to the interview and photo shoot. I had thought he would not like me in the newspaper, and I was wrong. He loved it.

Sure, I appreciated not having another huge fight. But it felt strange, the way he was obsessing over my fifteen minutes of fame. For instance, with the wine, Jack had also given me a gold necklace with a white porcelain owl pendant. I remembered going over it in my hands and wondering why he would give me an owl. 

I turned on Jack’s coffee maker and then walked to the stove. I dropped a heavily buttered piece of bread into the frying pan. It sizzled on contact and the smell of salty butter wafted up to me. A moment later the coffee machine gurgled before dripping down. Then the room filled with a roasting coffee scent on top of the toast. 

It was supposed to be a pleasant smell, sure, but it made my stomach feel a little queasy. I assumed it was from my hangover. 

Jack walked in a moment later, as I was buttering another piece of bread, prepping it for the pan.

“Do you want one piece or two?” I asked. 

“Two,” Jack said. He came up behind me and kissed the side of my head. Jack’s hands snaked around my waist and held me tightly against him. 

I fished the toast out of the pan and slid it onto a plate. Jack didn’t let me go the whole time. “Here’s your first serving. You should eat it while it’s hot.”

Jack took the plate, but kept one arm around me like a vice. He brought the toast up to his face and inspected it for a second. He gave me a doubtful look, then leaned down to smell the toast. 

“Jesus Christ,” Jack exclaimed. I couldn’t quite tell if he was happy or angry.

He leaned in and kissed me on the temple, because I turned away from him at the last minute. 

“That smells simply divine, Millie my angel,” Jack simpered. “See? Doesn’t this feel nice? Us having breakfast together.”

“Sure,” I said, forcing a smile for him. I had to remind myself to play nice.

“You could do this every morning,” Jack said. He looked smug, thinking this would sound appealing to me. “There’s no reason for you to keep going home to that goddamn shoebox with your cousin. You need to start living your life- building your own family.”

Hang on. Was that his way of proposing marriage? In the kitchen, with a piece of toast? This was a nightmare! I couldn’t hide the disgust on my face, and I knew Jack was watching my reaction carefully. So, instead, I quickly twisted away and ran to the bathroom. I shut the door behind me and kneeled at the toilet. Jack’s footsteps approached and he rapped his finger on the door. 

The only thing I could think of quickly was pretending to be sick. I thought I would have to shove my finger down my throat to make myself throw up. But as soon as I saw Jack’s shadow at the bottom of the bathroom door, and thought of myself as living here, married to the son of a bitch - I threw up just fine. 

Of course, it was likely the hangover. 

I drank the whole bottle by myself and even though I ate plenty of dinner, more than usual, I still got quite drunk. After he gave me the owl necklace, I remembered flashes of Jack and I having sex in bed, then I fell asleep in my underwear. Yuck.

“Millie, are you puking?” Jack asked. He sounded worried. “I hope you didn’t get me sick.”

“I’m hungover,” I moaned loudly towards the door, before putting my face back in the toilet. I felt the owl necklace swinging against the side of the toilet bowl, and wished I wasn’t wearing it. 

“You better not leave a mess in there. I mean it, Millie, you need to clean that shit up. I don’t want to see it or smell it, you got that?” Jack said. 

“I’ll clean it,” I called out. My nose was streaming and I tasted bile all down my throat. Ugh, god. The hangover from hell. I held onto the toilet seat and closed my eyes for a moment. In this case, I was glad Jack kept an obsessively clean house, which extended to his toilet. 

“What the fuck!” Jack exclaimed. He ran into the kitchen, cursing the whole way. That’s when I smelled the burning toast I’d left on the stove.   
Oops, I thought, with a smile. Served the bastard right for yelling at me while I’m throwing up. 

“Goddammit!” Jack screamed from the kitchen. Some minutes later he came back to the bathroom, suspiciously quiet. I wasn’t scared though, because I knew that he wouldn’t come in - not with puke involved. 

“Millie, I am not mad at you,” Jack said very sternly, as if he was angry just for having to lie about not being angry. “I cleaned up your burnt mess, because I know you’re sick. But I have to go to work now, so I have to leave you here. I’ll tell the chief you’re not feeling well, and that you’re resting. And I expect my bathroom to be clean when I get home.”

“I’ll clean it,” I moaned. “Just go.”

“Are you going to be here tonight?” Jack asked. He was suggesting that I shouldn't be, probably in case I was still throwing up. What happened to the “let’s make a family together” Jack? I hoped that Jack was gone for good.

“No, I’m going home,” I said, forcefully. Fuck him and his big empty house. 

“Okay, you do that. I’ll call you later to check on you,” Jack said. It hinted towards a threat, like you better be home. 

“Go to work,” I yelled. I couldn’t pretend to be nice, not with a raging headache, and an upset stomach. It wasn’t as bad as I let it sound in my voice, but that was to get him to go away. 

The moment I was sure Jack was out of the house and long gone, I washed my face and brushed my teeth. I got a glass of water and drank half of it in a few gulps. It helped a little with my stomach. My head was just going to pound all day, I was pretty sure, unless Ivy happened to have an aspirin at home. 

I cleaned up the bathroom, as instructed, and it only took me a few minutes to get rid of the traces of vomit. But just in case, I wiped down every surface in the bathroom, including the mirror, and sprayed his pine air freshener around the house. It covered up the burnt toast smell.

Once that was done, I dumped the full coffee pot of what I’d made earlier, and cleaned out the coffee grounds. I didn’t want Jack to come home from work and find a reason to lecture me about respecting his house.

By the time I got home, Ivy was already gone. She’d probably gone to drop Cliff off at school, then head over to her salon. I checked the time on our wall clock in the kitchen to see if Ivy would be at work yet. It was in the shape of an eye with eyeshadow and mascara, and the clock was framed in the iris. The shorthand of the clock was topped with a set of red lips.

9:00 am. She might not be at work yet. But I really needed to talk to someone. 

“Fuck it,” I said, and picked up the phone. 

After several rings Ivy answered.

“Ivy’s Beauty Salon,” she said.

“Ivy,” I said, so grateful to hear her voice. “Thank god you’re there.”

“Is that Fran?” Ivy asked. 

“No, it’s Millie,” I said. “Ivy, listen, Jack said he wants to start a family.”

“He wants to do what now?” Ivy said. “With you?”

“Yes! He said the family thing, and he said he wants to have breakfast together every morning,” I said, feeling sick all over again. 

“You said no, right?” Ivy asked. 

“I didn’t say anything,” I replied. “I threw up.”

“You did what now?” Ivy said, laughing hysterically. “Please tell me you threw up on him. I would pay to see that.”

“No, I ran into the bathroom to throw up,” I said. “What am I going to do? If I say no, he’ll get me fired.”

“So what?” Ivy said. “This is getting ridiculous. You need to quit first then tell him to go to hell.”

“I’m so close to getting a better job,” I said. “I just have to delay him a little while longer.”

“Suit yourself,” Ivy said, heavily judgmental. 

“I know,” I said. “This is dumb. But I don’t want to throw away all the time I’ve already put in, not when I’m right at the finish line.”

“Are you absolutely sure Jack doesn’t know you’re fixing to leave him?” Ivy said. 

“How could he?” I said. “I’ve never said a word.”

“Yeah, but you threw up when he asked you to marry him,” Ivy said. “You’re communicating with him whether you like it or not.”

“No, I’m hungover, it’s different,” I said. I hoped so anyway. 

“Look, kid, I’ve got a client,” Ivy said. “If you’re home today, could you pick up Cliff from school at three?” 

“Yeah, of course,” I said. “Bye, cousin.”

I hung up and held my hand on the receiver for a minute, staring at it. The next person I wanted to call was Bill. But, besides the fact that I hadn’t talked to him since he told me about the Houston Chronicle, I also didn’t have his number. We'd talked in the middle of June, and it was July 15th. Every time the phone rang, I had hoped it was Bill calling. I wanted to tell him thank you for setting up the interview, but mostly I wanted just to hear his voice.

While my hand was still on the receiver, lamenting the fact that I couldn’t call Bill, the phone rang under my hand. It spooked me and I accidentally knocked the receiver off it’s base. Oops! It clattered to the countertop and I scooped it up, totally embarrassed. 

“Hello? Sorry, I dropped the phone,” I said, apologizing preemptively. 

“Millie, is that you?” said Mrs. Brown from down the street. “I was calling to see if Ivy was home?”

“No, she’s at the salon,” I said. “Do you want the number to call her there?”

“No, dear, I have the number,” Mrs. Amelia Brown said, making it clear that she didn’t like me. “Well, I suppose as a cop, you’ll know all about the missin’ girl from campus.”

“No, I haven’t heard,” I said. On one hand I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of having scooped the silly police girl. But on the other hand I wanted to know what she had to say. “Do you know what happened?”

The smugness radiated off of Mrs. Brown and traveled all the way down the line to me. She was loving this. I bet by tonight all of her friends would know that the other cops didn’t tell Millie Turner anything important. Well, if they were going to gossip about me, at least it was the truth.

“Well, I don’t presume to know, it’s not really my business,” Mrs. Brown said, without a hint of irony. I could hear air whooshing by the receiver rhythmically, and I imagined it was Mrs. Brown fanning herself. “I’ve only heard this morning from Ruthie Simon that Redd Cormack told her that Billy, Ruthie’s nephew, was riding his bike along the side of the road last night, over by Old Archer Ranch, and happened to see himself a honest-to-god pair of women’s panties out there in the trees, like someone had just tossed them there not a moment before.”

For someone who said it wasn’t her business, she sure had a lot to say about the matter.

“And they came from a girl on campus?” I asked, twisting my finger nervously around the phone cord. 

“Well, you know, Ruthie Simon didn’t know about that. But I heard from Gail Penderhast that her son, who works for FDSU, told her that there are some girls on campus who can’t find their friend, Tina Beth Gordon. Only, no one took it serious, since Tina Beth was always flighty like a bird, bless her heart.”

I found myself holding my breath while absorbing this information, with my heart beating hard against my chest. Was this true, or something that Mrs. Brown and other gossips had blown out of proportion? 

“And you know Ruthie said them undergarments was just covered in blood,” Mrs. Brown said, basically salivating. This story was most likely the juiciest bit of gossip she’d ever come across in Valdez County. The other gossip at the time was old news, and involved a lady cop going for a drink with a silver haired FBI agent...

“How unfortunate. That poor girl,” I said. “But how do you know it’s her undergarments?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” Mrs. Brown said. “The tag on the underwear had her name on it, bold as brass. She did that to make sure her roommates wouldn’t mistake it for theirs, isn’t that strange? Anyway, it said clear as day TINA BETH.”

“Tina Beth,” I repeated. I still didn’t know if this was trustworthy information, but I planned to find out as soon as possible.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moar Changes: (￣▽￣*)ゞ  
> Okay, so I made some changes to the previous chapters. What are you going to do, sue me?? (please do not sue me.)
> 
> 1\. Tina Beth is now Ana Sofia
> 
> Tina Beth was only mentioned briefly at the end of the last chapter. Once again, for those of you that hadn't read chapter ten before I updated it, you won't notice anything different. The reason I changed it from a white girl to a Hispanic girl is because I didn't want to perpetuate the "missing white woman" syndrome, where the white female victims get all the attention, and other murders go unsolved. 
> 
> Now, I don't think that Texas was actually this far ahead in terms of racial equality in the 70s, but I don't really care. You'll see what I mean. 
> 
> 2\. More cohesive timeline.
> 
> I went back to previous chapters and added in the dates so it's easier to follow and hopefully feels more tangible. For instance, the first half of the book is in mid May. Chapter Eleven takes place in mid July of the same year. 
> 
> 3\. Minor changes. Just clean up really, like making things easier to read/understand.
> 
> That's about it! I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Eleven

I smiled for the camera, next to Sheriff Garcia. He had his arm around my shoulders like an uncle or a big brother. Behind us was a beautiful lake, trees, birds, and, also, a crime scene. The photographer was instructed to try and take a picture with only blue sky background, for an unrelated article about how the County of Valdez was proud of its female officer. 

After the picture was taken, Sheriff Garcia patted my shoulder. 

“There's that done,” the sheriff said with a smile. “Now off to work with you. Bob!”

Chief Kelly answered with, “Yeah?”

“You can have your officer back, Bob,” Garcia called out. “Go on over, Millie. I gotta address these fine folks.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said with a smile. I meant it too. Garcia was the only reason I was here and not back at the police department, sitting on my thumbs.

When I approached Chief Kelly, the smile he wore for the sheriff devolved into a scowl that he tried to hide. The scowl was for me, not the sheriff, but I had other things to worry about, like the crime scene. My heart started beating rapidly, as it had been on and off all morning. 

Here we go, I said to myself. Don’t fuck this up. 

“We got anything for this one to do?” Chief Kelly shouted over to Jack. He gestured dismissively towards me. 

It was 7:45 am, and we stood on the edge of Keystone Lake. 

I had managed to drink some coffee, but I hadn’t eaten anything, and that had been a mistake. Here I was, supremely nervous anyway, and without any breakfast I felt shaky and unfocused. 

Every sound made me nervous, from the quacking wood ducks on the lake, to the cacophony of insects, and fish jumping out of the water to catch them. And, not to mention the less common gaggle of lookie-loos from town, two reporters, and the photographer standing at least fifteen feet away, watching us and chattering to each other. The Valdez County sheriff, his secretary, and his deputy tried to gather them all together for a statement. 

“Come on over, honey,” Jack said, waving me over. 

I walked carefully on the wet sandbank, feeling my heart beat hard against my chest. This morning at 5:00 am, two brothers, the Clark boys, had come out to the lake to get in an hour’s fishing before work. When putting their boat in the water, the Clarks came across the dead body of a girl in the tall grass by the shoreline. They immediately went back home to call the cops. 

From what I understood, she was a brunette, possibly hispanic or latino, in her late teens or early twenties, stripped down, and laid in the fetal position with her hands and feet tied. The body had been out in the elements for who knows how long, so it was damaged by animals, insects, and 90% humidity. She appeared to have been strangled. 

Ana Sofia, the girl everyone was gossiping about from campus, was still missing. According to Mrs. Brown, Ana Sofia was eighteen years old and had long dark hair. Was that her in the grass? I had no idea.

“Careful, now,” Jack said, taking hold of my upper arm with a vice grip. He wore a charming Jack face, most likely for the reporters and sheriff. 

Keystone Lake was surrounded by a dense pine forest, with deer, snakes, raccoons, and a few scattered cabins. It was a popular place to go swimming, fishing, hunting, camping, and drinking. But the deeper into the forest you go, the more likely you are to find criminals and prostitutes hiding out in shacks and trailers. 

The lake and surrounding pine trees made the air smell damp and fresh, but it was drowned out by a rotten smell sharp in the back of my throat. The sickly sweet but also foul stench got worse the closer I got to the body. The smell was so pungent that Aaron and Dale, the ones working closest to the body, had tied handkerchiefs over their nose and mouth. 

“So, honey,” Jack said, like he was giving a presentation to school kids. “What you’re going to do is take this here tape and wind it around the boundary we’ve set up. You’re going to start at this pole here at the water, and then to the trees we marked. It’s called securing the scene.” 

“Alright,” I said. He handed me the roll of yellow caution tape. 

“There you go,” Jack said. “so you just need to wrap it nice and tight, maybe tie a knot, and move on. Be very careful not to step over the boundary into the crime scene. You could end up damaging evidence.”

He was laying it on thick with the patronizing tone. But I brushed it off. For one thing, I wanted to help and figure out what was going on. But also, I wanted to learn how to do this for the future.

“Alright,” I said. 

“Now, while you’re walking around, be sure to watch for evidence. If you see any footprints or cigarette butts or anything, you holler for me,” Jack said, “Alright, get to it, officer.”

There were two poles at the embankment, right up to the edge of the water. The chest high iron poles framed the location of the body on about fifteen feet either side. As for trees, there were only a few scattered pines this close to the water. Three trees were marked with caution wrapped around them, forming something of a half circle around the body. There were no poles in the water, and I assumed that was because the water had probably washed away all the evidence that would have been there, like footprints. I made a mental note to ask Jack about this later. 

Another thing I wondered about was why they hadn't taped off the crime scene yet, particularly since they'd already had the tape out to mark trees. That was something I decided not to ask Jack in case he took it to mean he was lazy and/or incompetent. 

“I want to assure the good people of Valdez County,” Sheriff Garcia said to the gathered onlookers, “that we will be working diligently to figure out what happened here to this young woman, and catch the guy who did it.”

His voice carried across the bank, so everyone could hear. 

Aaron had the job of bagging evidence on or around the body. He picked nervously through the reeds, wearing gloves and holding up an evidence bag like something might jump into it. Dale handed Aaron a stick and told him to use that to push the grass apart instead of his hands. 

Jose helped Dale take pictures of the body by holding back the surrounding vegetation. Jack stood to the side to take note of the date, time, weather, and description of the scene for the paperwork. 

Chief Kelly stood off outside the barrier, adjusting his hat and belt and spitting periodically. He seemed agitated and unfocused. 

“Hey Dale,” Chief Kelly said, approaching the barrier. He sounded a mite more upset than the situation called for. “Ease up on the camera, will ya? Film don’t grow on trees, ya know.”

“Sure thing, chief,” Dale responded. He looked around the grass to find a safe exit point and then hopped over onto the sand, closer to me. He stumbled a little on landing, and Jose and Jack laughed at him for it. 

“Sheriff Garcia,” Libby Kennedy said. She was a reporter for the Valdez Herald. “Is this the body of Ana Rios from FDSU?”

I finished knotting the tape to the first pole and slowly moved towards the next stop, a tree, pulling the tape with me. There was gentle lapping of waves onto the shore. Two large turkey vultures circled overhead, with more waiting in the nearby tree tops. Our work was probably interrupting their meal, I thought. Although I didn’t normally find vultures to be unsettling, in this instance I wished they would go away. 

“Now I’m sure ya’ll know we couldn’t possibly confirm an identity at this stage in the investigation,” Sheriff Garcia replied. 

A fog of mosquitoes and flies hung over us like a blanket, and the cops were frequently slapping their necks and hands to kill the little bastards. I had sprayed myself with bug repellent, and lord it smelled nasty. But at least there were only a few mosquitoes buzzing around me, and hopefully those few couldn’t get through my stockings. 

Marcus, the last of our police department, had left to get a large pair of waders, like for fishing. When he got back, he would look for evidence in the shallows nearby, like clothes that might have floated away. He wasn’t supposed to go in too far, just a preliminary glance around the location of the body, until the guys in boats showed up to drag the lake. 

“Is this in anyway connected to the murder of Lana Gutierrez?” Libby said in follow-up. 

I had finished wrapping the trees and headed to the last pole at the waterline. My heart was beating in my throat as I watched Jack and the other officers poke around in the grass. I could see a glimpse of her foot and calf while Aaron pushed apart a section of vegetation with his evidence hunting stick.

Lana Guitierrez was a prostitute that had been found in the woods a few miles from Keystone Lake in June. She’d been posed and tied up as well, and strangled. But Lana was a known drug addict and prostitute who lived in a trailer with other known prostitutes, out in the same woods she was killed in. Everyone assumed it had to do with her profession, which is another way of saying they don’t care who killed her or why. 

“Again, it’s much too early for us to be sure,” Sheriff Garcia said. “I tell you what, why don’t you folks head on home, and let us do our job. The faster we can work here, the sooner you’ll hear more of the story. Now, go on, let’s allow this poor young lady some privacy.”

Chief Kelly joined in on escorting the onlookers and reporters away from the lake, while Sarah, the sheriff’s secretary approached the crime scene. She held a large tote bag for her files and notes, and walked confidently across the sand in her heels. 

“You alright there, Millie?” Sarah yelled across the tape. 

“Yes, ma’am,” I yelled. 

“I’ll call you this afternoon to set up a time to do the interview,” Sarah said.

Sarah was a Vietnam widow, mother of four boys, and was one of the only reasons that the sheriff’s office ran as smoothly as it did. She also happened to be black, and people didn’t always like that, but times were changing. For instance, the sheriff himself was hispanic, and had been elected in a predominantly white county. 

Sarah and I had met at a BBQ in June and hit it off over her homemade banana bread. We’d gone to lunch a few times since then, and I really liked her. It was nice to talk to another woman in the criminal justice world. 

In fact, Sarah was my biggest cheerleader. She’d even had my article in the Houston Chronicle framed and hung up in the sheriff’s office for all to see. That had really been one of the proudest moments of my life thus far. 

“I look forward to it,” I said. “Thank you!”

“Hey, you need to be careful, ma’am,” Dale said to Sarah. “This here’s a crime scene.”

“Please, son, this is not my first rodeo,” Sarah said. She wore a pink belted dress and had her hair done up in a large bun with a pink and gold silk scarf tied around her neck. “Anyway, bye Millie!”

Sarah waved to me and I waved back, smiling at her and grateful for her existence. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Jack glaring at me sideways. He trekked over to where I was finishing up the caution tape, trying to appear very casual. 

“You know, Millie, this is why no one can take you seriously as a cop,” Jack said, speaking quietly and working to control his voice. He was looking down at his notes as he talked. “Crime scenes are very serious work. It isn’t the time or place to be all cute with your girlfriends.”

“I understand,” I said, holding a neutral tone and concentrating on my work. 

I agreed with him, that this poor girl deserved reverence and an unobstructed crime scene so we could figure out what happened to her. But Sarah hadn’t even come close to the tape boundary, and so she had not obstructed any evidence. I also knew that if it had been one of Jack’s buddies coming for a chit chat, he wouldn’t have the same reaction. 

But it just wasn’t worth another fight. 


End file.
